The Anti-Fairies
by Jet Engine
Summary: Anti-Cosmo fights a spiral into madness. Someone watches from afar. A FOP spin-off series that starts light and grows dark. Anti-Fairy World will never be the same again. Episode 31, Room 999: When magical creatures start dying under mysterious circumstances, it's a race against the clock to find out who's responsible.
1. Anti-Fairly Odd Pet

**Summary: After being told that he can't have a pet, Foop takes in a creature he finds in the streets and tries to hide it from his parents.**

 **Hey, everyone! I've brought you a "Fairly Odd Parents" spin-off series type thing! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Anti-Fairly Odd Pet**

"Let go!" Anti-Cosmo cried out as he tried to yank his favorite novel away from the creature trying to take it. "Let go, you animal!"

Oblivious to the commotion, Foop floated into the living room. "Father, can I have a dog?"

Anti-Cosmo glanced at him, only half interested. "In case you haven't noticed, we already have a dog of sorts." He gave the novel another yank, but his wife, who was holding on to the book with her teeth, wouldn't relent. "Let _go_! This is _not_ tug-of-war!"

Anti-Wanda let go, and the force of his own pulling sent Anti-Cosmo hurtling into the wall. "But, I wanna read it," Anti-Wanda whined.

Being magic, Anti-Cosmo quickly recovered from his collision. Rubbing his now-aching head, he reminded her, "You can't read, you twit."

"I know, but you promised to teach me."

Foop ignored his mother and focused on his own problem. "Come on, Father. Poof has a dog. As his counterpart, don't you think _I_ should have a dog, as well?"

"Foop, if Poof perished in a pit of fire, would _you_ want to suffer the same fate?" Anti-Cosmo asked pointedly.

"That's different. If Poof perished then, as his counterpart, I would perish whether I wanted to or not," Foop pointed out. "Besides, a dog, whose _not_ the Anti-Sparky, is a loyal companion, who you can cuddle with and pet and train to obliterate your enemies."

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "So is your mother. Frankly, I can't believe you would want a pet of any kind. Animals are filthy." His face wrinkled with disgust at his next thought. "For badness sake, they _lick_ themselves and call it bathing!"

"So does Mother," Foop added smugly.

Anti-Cosmo ignored the truth of the statement. "Foop, a dog is a big responsibility. One that I'm not entirely certain you're ready for."

Foop looked hopefully at his mother. "Mother, you're an animal-lover. You'll vouch for me, right?"

"Well, I don't know what vouching is," Anti-Wanda smiled suddenly, "but when I agree with your daddy, he gives me treats!" So, as a reward for agreeing with him, Anti-Cosmo poofed her up a snack that strongly resembled a dog biscuit. "See?" She grabbed it with her feet and started nibbling on it, as her husband patted her on the head and her son floated off grumbling.

* * *

If anything, school made Foop's mood even worse. He'd flunked his spelling test - his father would repremand him for _that_ , later - and the bomb he'd implanted in the gymnasium turned out to be a dud. Worst of all, during lunch Poof kept going on about all the crazy things his magic dog, Sparky, had been doing.

"Sparky using me as a chew toy was fun for a while," Poof was telling his friend, Sammy Sweetsparkle, "but it's starting to get annoying."

From his seat at the other end of the table, Foop growled at Poof's comment. The fairy-baby should have felt lucky to have Sparky. His parents actually _let_ him have it. Well... they let Timmy Turner have it...but Sparky was technically Poof's dog, too!

"You okay, pal?" A voice snapped Foop out of his thoughts as a girl sat down across from him. "You look like you're gonna explode in place of that bomb you put in the gym."She took a huge bite out of her pizza and spoke with her mouth full. "You know, one that turned out to be a dud?" Anti-Goldie Anti-Goldenglow had only been in Spellementary School for a week, but being the only anti-fairies in the school, she and Foop had become fast friends. Like her counterpart, she was triangular and wore her hair in two pigtails, but that was where the similarities ended. She had red eyes and black hair and wore a dark blue dress and black boots. Unlike her counterpart, she had a northern American accent (the opposite of Goldie's Southern accent) and black bat wings.

"Oh, it's nothing, Anti-Goldie," Foop groaned. "My father's just being a word-I-can't-say-on-a-K-plus-rated-fanfiction. All I wanted was a dog, but he was all," his voice became higher pitched as he mocked his father, "'You're not responsible, blah, blah, blah!'"

Anti-Goldie glanced at her friend's hands, slightly unnerved, and swallowed the chewed-up pizza in her mouth. "I can see your upset."

"What was your _first_ clue?"

"Well, you're, uh, hurting your burrito." Foop looked down and realized that he'd been squeezing the filling out of his burrito. "If you want a pet so bad, why don't you just do what Megan on _Drake and Josh_ did?"

"You mean, bake an exploding birthday cake?"

"Wrong episode, Foop. I'm talking about the one where she got a sheep and hid it in the basement."

"Hm," Foop pondered the thought as he spooned some burrito-filling into his mouth. "I don't know..." He swallowed. "I could easily hide a dog from Mother, but Father's highly intelligent." Of course, how often did he follow rules? "Oh, what the heck? But, if this backfires, I'm blaming you."

* * *

After school, Foop did his homework and went to meet with Anti-Goldie. He would have met with her first, but his father had seen his spelling test grade online and, as Foop predicted, reprimanded him about studying harder, so Foop did his homework first.

The anti-babies had poofed to the Anti-Pet Store, but the only dog there was Anti-Sparky, and Foop was _not_ dealing with him again. And, the other animals all tried to either eat, burn, poison, or spit acid at them, so they fled the place.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Anti-Goldie commented as the two of them floated down the street. She scratched her arm, which had been bitten by a magic wolf. "And, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna turn into a werewolf." She heard a strange noise nearby. "Did you hear something?"

"Just the sound of my own frustration," grumbled Foop, whose skin still stung from petting that poison wartfrog, not knowing that it was _poison_ wartfrog until it was too late. The sound came again. "Wait, I hear it now. It sounds a bit like a pig."

They looked down and found a creature staring up at them with small black eyes. It looked like an ordinary pig, but with very pale blue skin, tiny black bat wings, and two small, pure white fangs sticking out of its mouth. The anti-babies floated to the ground to get a closer look, and it touched Anti-Goldie with its black foot. To her and Foop's amazement, the bite mark on Anti-Goldie's arm glowed gold and faded away, as though it was never there to begin with. The creature then touched Foop, whose entire body glowed gold then returned to normal, leaving him feeling even better than before he was poisoned.

"Whoa..." The awestruck anti-babies said.

"I-I feel amazing!" Anti-Goldie laughed.

Foop grinned. "Me too! I feel like a new man...er, baby." He looked quizzically at the pig-like creature before him. "How in Anti-Fairy World did you do that?" Then, he noticed the three light gray stars just aboved one of its hind legs. "Anti-Goldie, I think this thing is magic! Maybe, I could have _it_ as a pet!"

Anti-Goldie would have agreed, except... "We don't even know what _it_ is."

Foop raised his magic bottle and poofed up a book titled, 'Magical and Non-Magical Creatures.' "So, we'll look it up in Father's book." He started flipping through the pages. "But, it's a big book. It may take a while to find- Oh, here it is. Apparently, this thing is a hybrid of a pig and a vampire, known as a vampig."

Anti-Goldie rolled her eyes. "How very creative."

Foop continued reading. "Vampigs have a natural instinct to heal the sick or injured, so evil creatures, such as anti-fairies, used to hunt them for sport. They ceased this activity when vampigs became classified as 'critically endangered,' and now a large fine is charged for the intentional killing one."

"The healing instinct _is_ kind of disturbing, so I can see why people would hunt them," Anti-Goldie commented, "but this thing is so cute!" She patted it on the head and frowned. "Hm, it's like petting a corpse. Uh, not that I've done that." She raised an eyebrow in thought. "You know, Foop, despite its corpse-like feel and the fact that it smells like a decaying body, this thing actually sounds like it would be a good pet. All we'd have to do is hide it from your parents." She raised her magic rattle, which was dark gray with a black stripe. "We'll just poof it to your basement, and-" Her rattle drooped.

"And, Father poof-proofed the castle from the outside. Also, this book says that vampigs are immune to magic."

Anti-Goldie deadpanned. "That figures. So, how do we sneak it in?"

Foop poofed this book away. "We'll have to create a diversion of some kind." Anti-Goldie smiled deviously at him. "What?"

* * *

"This better work," Foop muttered, "or Anti-Goldie is going to perish in a pit of fire." He knocked on the door to his father's study (he and his mother weren't allowed in there without permission). Anti-Cosmo opened the door, looking rather annoyed. "Uh, hello, Father. I-"

"Foop," Anti-Cosmo interrupted, "you know you're not supposed to interupt me, when I'm plotting the downfall of my enemies."

Foop swallowed, _really_ hating Anti-Goldie's idea but not having a better one. "I-I know, Father, but this is important."

Anti-Cosmo raised a skepticle eyebrow. "More important than plotting the downfall of my enemies?"

"It, um, it-it's about a girl." Anti-Cosmo's eyes widened comically. "I-I have these...feelings, when I'm around her..."

"Oh, um," Anti-Cosmo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that _is_ important. I-I don't really have 'the talk' prepared, but-"

"The talk?" Foop's stomach knotted. He had heard about 'the talk' from watching cartoons. Although he didn't actually know what it was, it was apparently pretty disturbing. "You know...I-I think I hear Mother calling me-"

But, his father had already raised his wand and poofed them away in a cloud that read, 'No Way Out!' He'd poofed them into chairs in his study and poofed a projector and screen in front of them. Foop looked questionly at him, and Anti-Cosmo explained, "I don't have the talk prepared, myself, but I do have this video I found on Internet."

Before Foop could protest, the video began. 'The Talk' appeared in big letters on the screen. When the letters faded, a human man appeared in place of them. "Hello, growing boys and unprepared fathers," the man greeted. "I'm TV's Adam West, here to tell you all about the exciting journey from boyhood to older boyhood!"

"Let it never be said that I didn't suffer to acheive my goals," an anxious Foop commented to no one in particular.

* * *

While Anti-Cosmo was distracted, and Anti-Wanda was nowhere to be found, Anti-Goldie had managed to sneak the vampig down to the basement. It cautiously sniffed its surroundings, checking for anything that might harm its new friend. (The square male had given it an apple core to munch on, and it liked anything that offered it food.)

Anti-Goldie froze when she heard a familiar Southern accent call "Is someone down there? I heard something weird, and it wasn't the weird stuff I usually hear." Thinking quickly, Anti-Goldie shoved the vampig into a pile of boxes and smiled innocently when Anti-Wanda arrived. She smiled and waved at the triangular baby. "Hiya, Anti-Goldie! Whatcha doin' in the basement?"

"U-um..." Anti-Goldie struggled to think of an excuse. "Foop and I...are working on a science project! And, we're doing it in the basement because...there's more gravity down here?"

Anti-Wanda just looked blankly at her, and Anti-Goldie started sweating, thinking the older anti-fairy didn't believe her. Then, Anti-Wanda grinned. "That makes sense!" She sniffed the air and detected a foul but familar stench. "What smells like a decaying body?"

"Um...the body of the guy Foop and I murdered!" Anti-Goldie slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she'd just said.

To her surprise and relief, Anti-Wanda just nodded. "Yeah. I always knew Foop would kill Timmy Turner, one day."

Anti-Goldie blinked twice in shock of how calm Anti-Wanda was being. "Uh, yeah." The vampig oinked and moved around underneath the pile of boxes it was buried under. "Whoops! Looks like he's not dead! Better take care of that!" She poofed Anti-Wanda away and sighed in relief. "That was close." The vampig crawled out from underneath the boxes. "You really do smell like a decaying body."

* * *

"And, now you know where babies come from!" Adam West said cheerfully. "This is TV's Adam West saying, 'Here's to losing your childhood!'"

Though releived the video was over, Foop was still traumatized. Half-way through, he had curled up on his chair and started sucking his thumb and was still doing so.

"So, Foop," Anti-Cosmo said, oblivious to his child's discomfort, "do you have any questions?"

Foop stopped sucking his thumb. "Will my childhood ever be the same?"

Anti-Cosmo pondered that question then shrugged. "Probably not."

Foop shuddered and poofed away in a cloud that read, 'Traumatized!' He appeared in the basement and found Anti-Goldie spraying the vampig with a garden hose. "What are you doing to Vladimir?"

"Trying to get the smell of decay off him, so no one will notice-" She stopped spraying. "Vladimir?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm calling my new vampig: Vladimir, after St. Vladimir, the Russian vampire who could heal others, like this vampig does." Anti-Goldie just stared. He'd really put a lot of thought into the creature's name...apparently. "Anyway, you may as well head home, Anti-Goldie. I think I can take care of things from here."

Anti-Goldie raised an eyebrow. "Ya sure about that? I mean, your mom almost found Vladimir, and your dad's, like, a _lot_ smarter than her..."

They heard a poof nearby, and tensed up when they heard Anti-Cosmo's excited voice. "Where is it? Where is the decaying corpse of my enemy?" Foop kicked Vladimir back into the boxes and smiled innocently. He almost flinched at the pride in his father's eyes. "Ah, my son. Your mother tells me that you've managed to vanquish Timothy Turner! If that's true, then I couldn't be more proud! If it's not, well, then I couldn't more disappointed."

Foop was completely clueless, and Anti-Goldie felt bad for not telling him about her hasty lie. He whispered to her, "Anti-Goldie, I don't know what he's talking about."

Anti-Cosmo was too happy to hear him. "Oh, I smell a decaying body! It must be Timothy! Where is the body?" He poofed up his cellphone. "I'd really like to take a picture and use it as my wallpaper."

Foop looked to Anti-Goldie for help, but she just smiled sheepishly and poofed away in a cloud that read, 'Sorry!' Silently vowing to get his revenge on her later, Foop gulped as he returned to the matter at hand. Perhaps he could magically- No, anti-fairy magic couldn't directly kill someone. Maybe he could give Turner enough bad luck to-

Vladimir crawled out from the pile of boxes and shook off the dust.

Anti-Cosmo started at the creature for a moment. "A vampig? How did-" Oh. That's why Foop was acting so strange. Anti-Cosmo glared at him. "Foop? Do _you_ know why this creature is in our basement?"

Foop swallowed thickly, knowing he'd be in _huge_ trouble for bringing a wild animal into the house. "Um, well... It was Anti-Goldie's idea! She told me to hide it from you!"

Anti-Cosmo ignored the outburst. "Foop, I said you could _not_ have a pet."

"Technically," Foop clarified, "you said I couldn't have a _dog_. Vladimir is clearly _not_ a dog."

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow. "Vladimir? You even named it?"

"Oh, he's so adorable!" Anti-Wanda squealed. She was petting Vladimir harshly. Vladimir just smiled, as though nothing was happening. "Who's a cutie? Who's a cutie? Who feels like corpse?"

"Heel, Anti-Wanda!" Anti-Cosmo ordered. Anti-Wanda sat on her haunches like a dog.

Foop ignored his mother. "Father, I know you're mad, but you told me I couldn't have a _dog_ , specifically. So, in a way, it's your fault I smuggled in this vampig." Anti-Cosmo wanted desperately to argue, but the logic was hard to argue with. "Come on, Father. I'll take care of him. I'll feed him and clean up after him and teach him to vanquish our enemies." He put on his best puppy eyes. "Please? I'm saying please. That's how much I want this."

Anti-Cosmo sighed in defeat. "I guess it's okay. After all, if I say no, chances are something like this will happen again. Besides, it's not like you'd be dumb enough to bring a wild animal into the castle. I'd _never_ let you keep a wild animal."

"Uh, yeah." Foop decided to avoid mentioning that Vladimir _was_ a wild animal.

"I agree with Anti-Cosmo!" Anti-Wanda exclaimed suddenly. Her husband poofed her another dog biscuit as a reward for agreeing with him. "Yay! Treat!"

While she ate the biscuit with her feet, Anti-Cosmo said to his son. "However, Foop, there _is_ still the of your punishment for disobeying me..."

Foop gulped.

* * *

"Why am _I_ here?" Anti-Goldie whined.

She and Foop were tied to chairs in Anti-Cosmo's study. Anti-Cosmo was setting up the projector after confiscating their magic rattle and bottle.

"Because," Anti-Cosmo answered, "Foop says that you had as much to do with this whole vampig-situation as he did."

Foop glared at her. "Also, you deserted me, so you and I are _both_ going to suffer through...whatever this is!"

Anti-Cosmo gave them both an evil smirk. "Enjoy the program. Hopefully, this will teach you ninnies not to disobey me."

He poofed away as the video started. Adam West appeared on the projector screen. "Hello, children! I'm TV's Adam West, here to show you an up close, personal, and _very_ traumatizing look at what happens the moment a baby is born!"

The anti-babies' cries of "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" could be heard for miles.

 **The End**

* * *

 **I will now list the allusions in this episode, like they do on the Wiki sites.**

 _ **Gravity Falls**_ **: Foop getting a pet pig was inspired by Mabel's pig, Waddles.**

 _ **Drake and Josh**_ **: The events of "Josh Runs Into Oprah" and "Sheep Thrills" are mentioned.**

 ** _Victorious_ : Foop 'hurts his burrito' like Jade does in "Jade Dumps Beck."**

 _ **Vampire** **Academy**_ **: Foop mentions St. Vladimir.**

 **So, what do you think? I don't think Foop was too OOC. After all, he's a little boy, and his father's as evil as he is. Plus, Foop seems to become less of a threat as the series progresses.**

 **Anyway, if you have an episode idea, I'd love to hear- I mean, read it! If I like it, I might use it! Until next time, review!**


	2. Lady Luck

**Summary: Anti-Wanda helps a leprechaun break out of prison, unaware of how dangerous this leprechaun really is.**

* * *

 **Lady Luck**

Anti-Wanda loved her husband dearly, and she trusted his judgment. She had to; her own judgment wasn't very good. Still, there were times when she disapproved of Anti-Cosmo's actions. Like right now, for instance.

"I can't believe you!" Anti-Wanda exclaimed, as Anti-Cosmo locked one of the dungeon cells. "How could you lock her up, like that?"

Anti-Cosmo calmly poofed the key away. "Well, first I captured her, then I threw her in a cell, then I locked it."

Anti-Wanda face-palmed. "You know sarcasm confuzzles me."

"Confuzzles? Now you're just making up words." Anti-Wanda crossed her arms and pouted in annoyance. Anti-Cosmo sighed. "Look, I know you don't like when I take in prisoners, but I know what I'm doing. You trust me, right?"

Anti-Wanda's arms fell to her sides and she sighed in defeat. "Yes."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet with the Anti-Fairy Council to decide on her punishment." He poofed away.

Anti-Wanda shook her head in disgust. She wasn't the smartest anti-fairy - if anything, she was the dumbest - but she knew that this whole scenario was just...wrong, for lack of a better term. It was no secret that anti-fairies were evil, but it was even less of a secret that Anti-Wanda wasn't as cruel as the rest of her species.

"Sheesh." An Irish accent interrupted her thoughts. "How do you put up with that guy?"

Anti-Wanda shrugged at the prisoner. "He ain't so bad, once ya get to know him."

The prisoner was a leprechaun, which caused good luck, making her an enemy to anti-fairies, so it made sense - in a somewhat racist way - that she was the one locked up. The leprechaun was about Anti-Wanda's height and had curly, shoulder-length red hair and sky blue eyes, which was unusual, since most leprechauns had green or brown eyes. She wore a simple green dress with a black belt, a green top hat with a four-leaf clover on it, and black boots.

The leprechaun pursed her lips and looked over the anti-fairy before her. Four things struck her about the swirly-haired woman. One: the stupid hair style. Two: the pink eyes. Any eye color other than red was rare for anti-fairies. Three: the crooked teeth. They really took away from the anti-fairy's otherwise pretty face. And, four: she actually seemed _nice_.

The leprechaun voiced her last thought out loud. "You don't seem as bad as any of the other anti-fairies I've come across. And, believe me, I've met a lot of anti-fairies."

Anti-Wanda blushed. The only people who ever complimented her were her husband, her sister, and her son (when he was in a good enough mood). "Aw, thanks!" She held out her hand. "My name's Anti-Wanda. What's yours?"

Deciding that Anti-Wanda's intentions were good, the leprechaun reached her hand through the bars and shook Anti-Wanda's hand. "McShamrock. Anastasia McShamrock." They let go, and Anastasia voiced a curiosity. "Don't take this the wrong way, Anti-Wanda, but you don't strike me as someone Anti-Cosmo would associate with. Unless you work for him, or something?"

Anti-Wanda couldn't help giggling at what she thought was a ridiculous assumption. "Nah. I'm his wife."

To her surprise, Anastasia laughed. "You're a funny one, ya are! I never thought I'd say this to an anti-fairy, but I like you."

'I like you.' Another thing that few people said to Anti-Wanda. "I like you too, Anastasia! You're nice! Why would anyone lock _you_ up and poof away the key?"

"Uh..." Anastasia rocked on her feet. "Just a little misunderstanding..."

"I hear ya, girlfriend. I misunderstand things all the time."

Anti-Wanda gained a cross-eyed expression, and her tongue stuck of the side of her mouth. "You're not bright, are ya?" Anastasia asked.

Still grinning, Anti-Wanda shook her head. "Nah. I'm pretty much the opposite."

 _Interesting..._ Anastasia thought, deciding to use this to her advantage. "Anti-Wanda, maybe you could help me, ya know, bust out of here?"

Anti-Wanda frowned and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "I-I don't think Anti-Cosmo would like that..."

"Lass, you shouldn't worry about what Anti-Cosmo thinks. You're your own person, ya are. You should feel free to make your own decisions."

"Yeah..." Anti-Wanda grinned. "Yeah! You're right! I should make my own decisions!"

"And, you decide to let me go free!"

"And, I decide to let you go free! I love making my own decisions!"

This anti-fairy was definitely stupid. Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Me too." Anti-Wanda raised her wand to poof her new friend out of the cell, but instead of the leprechaun being freed, the wand smoked and sizzled. Unfamiliar with the way wands worked, Anastasia asked, "Uh, are wands supposed to do that?"

"Only if you're about to break a rule." Anti-Wanda poofed up a black book that was was bigger than her. The book had big red letters on the front that spelled out 'Anti-Rules.' Anti-Wanda opened the book, read over a rule. "Well, here's the problem. The Anti-Rules say that I can't use magic to help prisoners escape, until those prisoners are anti-fairies."

Anastasia kicked the ground in frustration. "Ah, potatoes. If I had my shillelagh, I could poof myself out, I could."

"Your shelly-what?"

"Shillelagh. It's basically the leprechaun version of a wand." Anastasia smirked. Perhaps she could still escape. "Anti-Wanda, perhaps you get my shillelagh for me, so I can escape."

Anti-Wanda considered it. She knew where Anti-Cosmo kept all his confiscated weapons and magical items, but that area was off-limits to everyone but Anti-Cosmo himself. "That could be tough. It might be easier for me to just go find the keys to your cell."

"I'll still need my shillelagh back."

Anti-Wanda waved her off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get your shinny-lee. But, first I have find the keys." She tapped her chin in thought. "Now, if you were Anti-Cosmo, where you keep a dungeon key...?"

Anastasia pointed to the wall across from her cell. "Over there."

Anti-Wanda turned around and found a set of at least twenty keys hanging off the wall. "Sweet corncobs, that's a lot of keys! It's gonna take me forever to find the right one!" She tried a key in the lock, and the cell door opened. "Or, maybe it'll take five seconds."

Anastasia smiled in satisfaction and almost stepped out of the cell, but a thought stopped her. "Wait, I just thought of something, I did. What if someone comes down here and sees that I've left?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that. 'Course, I don't think of much," Anti-Wanda stated. "How 'bout you wait here, while I find your sha-loo-loo?"

"It's called a shillelagh," Anastasia closed her cell door, "but that's a good idea."

A _good_ idea? Anti-Wanda was estatic. A new friend _and_ a good idea? She was on fire today! "Yay! I had a good idea!"

She poofed away in a cloud that read, 'Success!' but the keys didn't go with her. Instead, they fell into Anastasia's outstretched hand. An evil grin found its way to her face. She'd be needing this later.

"Oh, you must be Father's prisoner!"

Sooner than she'd thought. The excited statement came from a square and much younger anti-fairy with lavender-colored eyes. Beside him was a strange creature that Anastasia had never seen before. With its pale skin, bat wings, and fangs, it looked like a cross between a pig and a vampire. No doubt an Anti-Fairy World creature.

"Salutations, miss," the square one greeted cheerfully. "My name is Foop." He gestured to the animal with him. "And, this is Vladimir. We're bored, so we're going to do bad things to you!" Foop poofed up a bow and arrow. "Now, hold still while I shoot this poison arrow into your forehead."

Okay... This one was nothing like Anti-Wanda. "Uh, look!" Anastasia pointed at the stone wall. "A baby in pain!"

Foop turned around in excitement. "Where?"

Anastasia took the opputunity to opened the door, grab Foop - and Vladimir, just in case - throw them in the cell, and lock them in. After a stunned moment, Foop realised what happened and saw his magic bottle lying just outside of the cell. He tried to grab it, but Anastasia kicked it out of his reach.

"Sorry, lad," Anastasia apoligized sarcastically, "but I'm not staying here any longer. Anastasia is out." She held up two fingers and ran out of the dungeon, calling, "Peace!"

Slightly confused, Foop glanced at his pet. "What just happened?" Vladimir merely oinked in response.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo's private study: the one place in the castle that she wasn't allowed in. At least, not without permission. The last thing Anti-Wanda wanted to do was invade her husband's privacy, but she knew that he kept all the conviscated magical items - and the poison that their son somehow kept getting - in there.

"Well?" She yelped in surprise and found a familiar leprechaun standing beside her. "Did you find my shillelagh?"

"I thought you were waiting in the dungeon?" Anti-Wanda asked.

Not wanting to lose the anti-fairies trust by telling her what really happened, Anastasia said, "Uh, that's not important. Did you find my shillelagh?"

Anti-Wanda pointed at the closed door in front of her. "I think it's in there, but that's Anti-Cosmo's private study. I ain't supposed to go in there."

"Well, then I'll go in," Anastasia offered. "Then, if we get caught, you won't get in as much trouble, ya won't." Really, she just didn't like anyone else touching her shillelagh.

Anti-Wanda grinned. "You're a good friend. I'll stand guard out here. You go rifle through my husband's weird British business."

"The husband-thing was funny _once_ ," Anastasia informed. "Don't milk it."

She slowly entered the study and silently closed the door behind her. The room itself was just as she'd pictured: dark and forboding, with a desk, a computer, and a whole lot of books. She started by opening the desk drawers. To her surprise, one drawer was filled with Crimson Chin and Crash Nebula comics. Who knew the ruler of Anti-Fairy World was such a comic book geek? Then, she found a drawer filled with _Playdude_ magazines and decided to stay away from the desk. _Far_ away.

Anastasia turned her attention to the bookshelves lining the wall on the other side of the room (and tried to put the magazines out of her mind). She'd seen enough movies to know that pulling books off of shelves sometimes opened secret doors. As cliche as the thought was, she thought she'd try it anyway. She pulled out a book-

-and an arrow flew out of no where.

It just barely missed her head and instead pinned her top hat to the shelf. At first, Anastasia thought she'd triggered some kind of booby trap. Then, she turned around and a string of curse words popped into her head.

Anti-Wanda wagged her finger. "No shooting poison arrows in the house, sweetie," she scolded her husband, who was floating in the doorway and holding a bow in one hand and another arrow in the other. Suddenly, it clicked in Anti-Wanda's mind that her husband was back, and he was _not_ happy. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh, indeed," Anti-Cosmo confirmed. He aimed another arrow. "Surrender, Anastasia McShamrock, or the next one won't miss!"

Anastasia glared at him through narrowed blue eyes. "At the risk of sounding cliché, you'll never take me alive!"

Anti-Cosmo aimed. "Who says I have to?"

Just before he could fire, Anti-Wanda poofed in front of him, making him flinch. "Anti-Cosmo don't do it!"

Anti-Cosmo narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Okay, I almost let go, and your loud words would not have prevented _you_ from getting a lethal injection of venom in your bloodstream!"

Great. He was using big words again. "Um...what?"

"Oh, nevermind. Now get out of the way, so I can recapture the little red-haired girl behind you."

Anti-Wanda ignored his protests. "You can't take her in! She's my friend! She's one of the few people who's nice to me for reasons _besides_ the fact that I'm married to you!"

Anastasia blinked in surprise. "Wait, you two really _are_ married?"

Anti-Wanda ignored her. "In case you were unaware, most anti-fairies don't exactly, well, like me. Anastasia may not be an anti-fairy, but she likes me." Anti-Wanda was begging now. " _Please_ , Anti-Cosmo! I-I made a friend! Don't take her away from me!"

Seeing his wife's eyes start to water, Anti-Cosmo almost gave in. Almost. "Oh, I feel for you, precious, but Anastasia is a convict. She was taken in for selling illegal magical substances here in Anti-Fairy World, you see."

"I found it!" While the anti-fairies were distracted, Anastasia had taken the oppurtunity to continue searching for her shillelagh, which was a strange wooden walking stick with swirls carved into it. "All I had to do was remove the 'Starry Night' painting, and use a bobby pin to pick the lock behind it!" She used her shillelagh to fire a green beam at the anti-fairies, encasing them in a lime green bubble. "I also found poison arrows!" She held one up for emphasis. "Not sure what I'm gonna do with them, but I'll figure something out, I will."

"Uh, Anastasia," Anti-Wanda, not really comprehending the situation, "I think you trapped _me_ by mistake."

Anastasia smirked. "Sorry, Anti-Wanda. I really _do_ like you. I just like being evil more! Besides, you're an _anti-fairy_. That's the number one enemy of a leprechaun. Did you honestly believe you and I could ever be anything more than aquaintances?"

Anti-Wanda swallowed the lump in her throat. Big words or not, she knew now that Anastasia had tricked her. "I-I thought we were friends..."

Anastasia laughed. "Wow, you're even dumber than I thought!"

"Hey!" Anti-Cosmo exclaimed, fuming at what he was hearing. "Nobody calls my wife dumb except me, Foop, and, well, everybody. But, it's still not nice!"

Anastasia rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I'm going now." She ran out, laughing in triumph.

Growling, Anti-Cosmo tried to poof himself and his wife to freedom, but his wand sizzled. "Oh, crumpits. This bubble must be magic-proof."

"I-I don't understand." Anti-Wanda was completely oblivious to the current situation. "Why would she lie?"

Anti-Cosmo sighed in sympathy. "That's what leprechauns do, pumpkin. You know that."

Anti-Wanda hugged herself. She had done something stupid again. And, now she and Anti-Cosmo were trapped in a magic-proof bubble, and who knew where Foop was? Now, Anastasia was probably out doing some evil-leprechaun-thing in Anti-Fairy World, and-

And, Anti-Wanda couldn't let that happen! "Open your mouth," she instructed her husband.

"Um...why?" Anti-Cosmo asked, not sure where she was going with this.

"Just do it."

Still confused - a feeling foreign to him - he opened his mouth. Anti-Wanda then pushed him face-first into the bubble, causing it to burst. Anti-Cosmo fell ungracefully to floor. He looked around, realized that he was no longer trap, and wondered, "Are my teeth really that pointy?"

"Yes," Anti-Wanda replied. "Now, get up!" She lifted Anti-Cosmo off the floor. "We gotta find Anastasia!"

Anastasia rolled back into the room. Literally _rolled_. She was inside a giant purple bubble. Foop came in with Vladimir close behind. "I found her rifling through the supply of radioactive waste. FYI, she might be radioactive for a while."

On the other side of the room, the leprechaun in question was lying upside down on her back, as she had landed that way when she'd stopped rolling. "What just happened?"

Foop floated up to her. "Well, I could make up some awe-inspiring story about how I miraculously escaped from the cell you locked me in, but the truth is, you dropped a bobby pin when you ran out." He felt through his pockets. "Now, where did I put my poison arrows?"

"Wait," Anti-Wanda said, finally starting to comprehend what was happening. "Foop, did Anastasia lock you up?"

"Didn't I just say that?" Foop asked.

Okay, now Anti-Wanda was peeved. "Anti-Cosmo, what was her punishment supposed to be?"

"Ten years in prison," Anti-Cosmo answered. "Why?"

"Because, no one messes with my family, so I wanna take the lead on this one!"

Anti-Cosmo grinned. "Oh, you've got that evil look in your eye! I do so love that look!"

"What are they talking about?" Anastasia asked Foop.

Foop smirked. "If it means I get to shoot a poison arrow at you, then I'm all for it."

* * *

"I _finally_ get to shoot poison arrows!" Foop shouted in glee.

He and his parents were in the backyard, and Foop had a bow in his hand and a bag of arrows on his back. Meanwhile, Anastasia was strapped to a spinning wheel. "I'm dizzy!" she cried out.

Foop took aim and fired an arrow, just barely missing Anastasia's head. "I never thought say this, but this was a brilliant idea, Mother!" He prepared another arrow. "It's a fun challenge for me and terrifying discomfort for the victim!"

"It _is_ very uncomfortable!" Anastasia agreed.

Anti-Cosmo gazed proudly at his wife. "Yes, every now and then you come with something intelligent."

"Yeah," Anti-Wanda agreed. "And, I'm really sorry about letting Anastasia go."

Anti-Cosmo waved off her concern. "Oh, perish the thought. It wasn't your fault. Leprechauns can be very tricky creatures. Even I've been manipulated a time or two."

Anti-Wanda glanced thoughtfully at the girl on wheel. "I guess I'll have to be more careful from now on."

Foop looked sheepishly at his parents. "Speaking of careful, uh, would one of you care to change my diaper?"

"I'm on it," Anti-Wanda offered. She poofed herself and her son away.

Still spinning, Anastasia asked, "Can I get off this wheel now?" Anti-Cosmo grinned mischeiviously and poofed up his own bow and arrow. "I'll take that as a no."

 **The End**

* * *

 **Expect Anastasia to make more appearances. Also, if anyone's interested, I've posted some episode ideas on my profile! Let me know what you think of them, and feel free to let me know what ideas you have. If I like your idea, I might post it! Until next time, review!**

 **Allusions...**

 **James Bond: The way that Anastasia introduces herself is similar to how James Bond introduces himself.**

 _ **Phineas and Ferb**_ **: Saying "*name* is out! Peace!" is a running gag on the show.**

 ** _Playboy_ : "Playdude" is a parody of the magazine, which *ahem* shows off women. This is why Anastasia stopped looking through the desk drawers.**

 _ **Peanuts**_ **: Anti-Cosmo calls Anastasia "the little red-haired girl," which is how Charlie Brown's crush is referred to.**

 **"Starry Night": Victor van Gogh's famous painting was in Anti-Cosmo's private study.**


	3. The Return of Nega-Timmy

**Summary: Timmy Turner gets a hold of Anti-Wanda's wand, unaware of the psychological affects of black magic. (Takes place directly after "Balance of Flour")**

* * *

 **The Return of Nega-Timmy**

"I declare the winners of this year's bake-off to be...the fairies!" Mother Nature announced.

As the fairies in the crowd cheered, and the trophy was given to the fairies, Anti-Wanda sighed. So much for inheriting the god kids. But, that was okay. She had a child of her own to look after, anyway. She also had bigger problems; she'd lost her wand again. As Anti-Wanda pondered where she may have left it, her husband raised his own wand, blew a raspberry at the fairies, and poofed himself and Anti-Wanda away in a cloud that read, 'Sore Losers!'

They appeared back in their castle, and their son appeared next to them, looking much happier than they were. "Well, I'm back from my play date with Anti-Goldie," he announced. "Did I miss anything?"

"Just disappointment." Anti-Cosmo said bitterly. "If anyone needs me, I'll be sitting in the dark, muttering to myself."

Foop watched his father floated away, a deep scowl on the older anti-fairy's face. Foop recognized that look. "Another plan gone awry?" he asked his mother.

"We don't have time for bread, Foop," Anti-Wanda replied, not knowing what rye bread had to do with anything. "We have to find my wand before your daddy finds out I lost it."

"You lost your wand _again_?" Foop asked incredulously. "Where did you last have it?"

Anti-Wanda pursed her lips and thought. And, thought. And, thought. She grimaced in pain and held her head. "Thinking is painful!"

Foop deadpanned. "You know what else is painful? Being related to an idiot."

* * *

Meanwhile, down on Earth, Timmy Turner and his fairy godparents appeared back at his house. Wanda noticed that Timmy's face was still charred from when Nana Boom Boom threw an exploding pie in his face, so she used magic to clean him up.

Poof looked around frantically. "Brownie? Brownie!?"

"I think you've had enough brownies for one day, young man," Wanda said firmly.

"Timmy," Mrs. Turner called from down stairs, "I've just made a fresh batch of brownies!"

Poof squealed in delight and flew quickly out of the room. Wanda chased after him. "Poof! No!"

Timmy and Cosmo just stared for a moment, not entirely sure what just happened. Then, Timmy shrugged and smiled. "Oh, well. Wanna do something stupid?"

Cosmo grinned. "Ooh! What do you have in mind?"

Timmy looked around in case Wanda had come back. The coast was clear, so Timmy lowered his voice, and Cosmo floated closer to hear him. "Don't tell anyone about this. Especially Wanda. Got it?"

Cosmo gave a thumbs up and whispered, "You got it, dude."

Timmy pulled something out of his pocket and held it up for his godfather to see. "Check it out. Anti-Wanda dropped her wand at the bake-off."

"You stole an anti-wand!?" Cosmo shouted incredulously. Timmy shushed him, but Cosmo didn't lower his voice. "That's totally stupid! And, that's coming from _me_!"

Timmy rolled his eyes. He didn't see what the big deal was. "Relax, Cosmo. I'll give it back. Right after I play with it."

"But, Timmy, anti-wands aren't like regular wands. Do you know what will happen now that you stole one?"

"No."

"Neither do I!"

"Then, why are we having this argument?" Cosmo opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't find an answer. "That's what I thought."

"Ooh!" A happy but familiar voice came from outside. "A crack!" Timmy and Cosmo looked outside to find Mr. Crocker gazing at the crack in sidewalk. "I'm gonna step on it and break Mother's back!" He then proceeded to step on the crack.

A sudden urge came over Timmy. For reasons he couldn't explain, he wanted to use magic to break Mrs. Crocker's back. Unable to resist, he raised the anti-wand. In the Crocker residence, Mrs. Crocker was busy making herself a sandwich. Timmy had poofed up a jackhammer, which hammered Mrs. Crocker's back, making her cry out in agony.

Back at the Turner residence, Timmy was laughing in delight. Who knew causing bad luck was so much fun? He barely even heard Cosmo ask what was so funny, and Cosmo _almost_ didn't notice Timmy's blue eyes start to glow red.

* * *

Meanwhile, Foop was trying to convince his mother to tell his father about the missing anti-wand, but Anti-Wanda wouldn't have any part of it.

"Do you know what your daddy'll say, if he finds out that I lost my wand?" she asked, unaware that the man in question was floating directly behind her, looking rather annoyed. "He'll say, 'it's okay, dear,' but he won't mean it!" Foop simply pointed behind her. "He's right behind me, ain't he?"

"Quite right," Anti-Cosmo replied. Anti-Wanda turned around and cringed at the disappointment on her husband's face. "It's okay, dear," he said, not really meaning it. "As long as no one stupid or irresponsible gets a hold of it, everything will be fine."

* * *

Cosmo just stared out the window, praying that his godchild and/or his wife would be back soon. He heard a poof behind him and turned around to see his exhausted wife.

Wanda wiped some sweat from her brow. "Whew. I finally got Poof to sleep. Did I miss anything?"

Cosmo swallowed nervously. "Um..."

Wanda looked around the room. "And, where's Timmy?"

So, Cosmo reiterated his last conversation with their godchild...

 _"Have your eyes always been red?" Cosmo asked. He wasn't suspicious; he honestly wasn't sure._

 _Timmy whirled around to face him, and Cosmo flinched at the hatred in his now-red eyes. "Don't ask stupid questions, you utter_ freak _!"_

 _"T-T-Timmy? Are you okay?"_

 _"Be silent, fairy, and grant me this: I'm going out to play with my new anti-wand-"_

 _Never knowing when to keep his mouth shut, Cosmo blurted out, "But, that's Anti-Wanda's-"_

 _If it was even possible, Timmy's scowl deepened. "I said,_ be silent _!" Gasping in horror of what he was hearing, Cosmo did as he was told. "That's better. Now, I'm going to go play with the wand that's_ mine _now, and I wish you, Wanda, and Poof wouldn't go anywhere near me until I get back."_

"T-Timmy didn't mean that," Cosmo said, struggling not to cry, "did he, Wanda?"

"Hm," Wanda pondered. "That's doesn't sound like the Timmy I know."

"In that case, I'm not sure we're talking about the same Timmy."

Suddenly, Wanda processed the situation. "Wait, why did Timmy have an _anti-_ wand?"

"He said he found it. I tried to tell him it was a bad idea to keep it," Cosmo teared up again as Timmy's harsh words played over in his mind, "but he just yelled at me!"

"Calm down, Cosmo," Wanda said gently. "We'll get this straightened out. We'll talk to Timmy as soon as he gets home. Okay?" Cosmo sniffed and nodded.

Anti-Wanda suddenly poofed into the room and starting searching for something. Cosmo and Wanda were confused, but they knew that Anti-Wanda wasn't much of a threat, so they just watched her, wondering what she was looking for.

But, when the anti-fairy checked inside Cosmo's pants (accidentally giving him an atomic wedgie in the process), Wanda raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to be angry or creeped out. "Uh... Looking for something?"

Anti-Wanda let go of Cosmo's pants, much to his relief. "I'm lookin' for my wand."

"And, you thought it might be in Cosmo's pants...?"

"You be surprised where stuff ends up, when I lose it."

"Well, it's not in my pants," Cosmo stated. "Is it?" He checked his pants. "Nope. Not there. Timmy must still have it."

Anti-Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Timmy Turner? Why does he have- Uh, I don't wanna know." She pulled out her cellphone and called her husband. "Hey, hun. Turns out Timmy Turner wound up with my wand."

Anti-Cosmo and Foop poofed into the room, and Anti-Cosmo asked in astonishment, "How in the devil's name did Timmy Turner get your wand?"

"He told me he found it," Cosmo answered.

Anti-Cosmo pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Oh, it's only a matter of time..."

"A matter of time?" Wanda repeated, frightened by the anti-fairy's choice of words. "Until what?"

Anti-Cosmo suppressed a sigh. To think that Wanda was suppose to be the 'smart' fairy. "You see, Wanda and Cosmo, the only real difference between a wand and an anti-wand is the side effects of their magic."

"Side effects?" Wanda repeated. "Magic doesn't have side effects."

"Correction: _fairy_ magic doesn't have side effects. _Anti-_ fairy magic can have a dastardly effect on anyone who's _not_ an anti-fairy. Not a lot of creatures can handle that kind of evil. In fact, anti-fairy babies are driven completely mad by it, during their first few hours of existence."

"So, that's why Foop was so much crazier when he was born than he is now," Cosmo deduced.

Foop blinked in surprise. "I don't know what's more terrifying: that Turner is going to go kookoo from black magic, or that _Cosmo_ understood something."

Wanda ignored him. "Anti-Cosmo, don't you think you're being a little dramatic? I mean, Timmy's only had the wand for about an hour, right? How much could he have possibly changed?"

* * *

Timmy Turner had changed _a lot_.

His usual attire had been swapped for a much more evil look. He now wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket, dark gray jeans, black sneakers, and a black fedora with a pink stripe (hey, the pink hat's his thing). His eyes had changed as well; instead of blue, they had become blood-red. An evil chuckle passed through his lips, as one of the popular girls - Veronica - tripped and dropped her mirror, shattering it. Timmy raised his anti-wand and moved Veronica's purse in front of a car, which ran over it.

"NOOOOO!" Veronica screamed in horror. "All my make-up was in there!"

 _I should have stolen an anti-fairy wand ages ago!_ he thought in self-satisfaction. A shadow loomed over him, and he looked up at someone he was all too familiar with.

"Hey, Turner," Francis greeted ominously. "You look kind of cool, but I'm still gonna wail on you."

Timmy smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Are you, now?" Anti-wand hidden behind his back, Timmy magically shrank Francis to the size of a mouse, and encased the confused bully in a hamster cage. "Looks like _I'm_ the big, scary bully now!" He cackled in delight. As he strolled proudly away, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was surprised at what he found. "Trixie Tang?"

"Yeah, hi," she greeted. "I just wanted to say that I like your new look. I just _love_ bad boys, so I was wondering if you wanted to go get some ice cream with me."

Timmy stared incredulously at the popular girl. He didn't know what was weirder: that she was asking him out, or that she thought she was in his league. "Uh, that reminds me," he pointed to the ladder behind him. "Would you mind walking under that conveniently place ladder and seeing if something happens?"

Trixie didn't know what he was talking about, but she didn't believe in luck, so she walked under the ladder. Suddenly, a bucket of fish fell off the top of the ladder and on her head, much to her dismay.

Timmy walked away, whistling innocently. He was having the time of his life! This was much better than his old emergency wand wish. With this anti-fairy wand, the sky was the limit! He could exact revenge on Vicky, get Tootie off his back, overthrow the mayor- Wait, where had that come from?

 _Actually_ , Timmy pondered, _now that I think about it, I could easily rule over Dimmsdale. Maybe even the whole planet!_ He shook his head clear. _No, Turner. Start with Dimmsdale, then work your way up._

Meanwhile, the anti-fairies materialized nearby, but Timmy didn't notice. "See, Father?" Foop asked. "I told you he'd be where ever bad luck was."

"I thought that was your daddy's deduction," Anti-Wanda said, confused. "On a possibly unrelated note, what does deduction mean?"

Anti-Cosmo ignored both of them. "If we're going to get the wand back, we need some way to distract Turner. Any ideas?" Anti-Wanda raised her hand. "That do _not_ involve elephants stepping on stuff?" Anti-Wanda lowered her hand.

"I do have one idea," Foop stated. "It might be lazy writing, but it should be enough to get that wand away from Turner." He raised his magic bottle. "It's something no mortal boy can resist."

Suddenly, a small group of models appeared beside Timmy, who took notice right away. He didn't question where they came from. All he cared about was the fact that they were all wearing swimsuits and holding trays of cookies. He grinned. "Swimsuit models with cookies? No mortal boy can resist that!"

Just as he was about to introduce himself to the models, Anti-Wanda rushed up behind him and grabbed her wand with a cry a triumph. Timmy's eyes returned to their normal color as Anti-Wanda poofed the models away.

"What's going on?" Timmy wondered aloud. He looked down at himself in surprise. "What happened to my clothes?" Then he saw three anti-fairies and panicked. "Ah! Cosmo, Wanda, help!"

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Do you honestly think those dimwits would go against your wishes?"

Timmy opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, then the memories came back to him, and he face-palmed. "Oh, man. I remember now. I-I'm sorry I took your wand, Anti-Wanda. I realize now that it was _not_ one of my better ideas."

Foop scoffed. "She's going to forgive you _that_ easily."

Anti-Wanda smiled. "You're forgiven, Timmy."

"Whoops. My bad," Foop apologized. "That came out sarcastic." He added in a more positive tone, "She's going to forgive you that easily."

"Well, I better get home and apologize to Cosmo," Timmy said, hurrying away. "I said stuff I probably shouldn't have said."

Anti-Wanda waved. "Bye bye, Timmy!" She then said to her family. "Well, I sure learned my lesson. From now on, I'm gonna keep better track of my things."

"But, I can't help but feel as though we're forgetting something," Foop commented.

Anti-Cosmo shrugged. "Well, if it was important, we probably wouldn't have forgotten it."

The three of them poofed home, completely forgetting that Francis was still tiny and trapped in a jar.

 **The End**

* * *

 **I guess the ending was a little lazy, but whatever. :P Review!**


	4. Love and War (Part One)

**Summary: Anti-Cupid makes Anti-Wanda fall for her ex-boyfriend, so Cupid, Anti-Cosmo, Foop, and Anti-Blonda try to fix the problem.**

 **This was based on the fanfic "Come Back to Me" by Danny'sGhostGirl. Also, I looked it up, and there _is_ an Anti-Cupid! For some reason...**

* * *

 **Love and War (Part One)**

A lanky figure sat perched just outside of the Anti-Cosma castle, peering through the window through a pair of binoculars. Specifically, he was watching the female in the castle. She was wearing black flats and a blood-red gown that reached her ankles and had long sleeves that flared out at the ends. She struck a pose and immediately received an eager nod from her husband and a thumbs-up from her son. Apparently, she had wanted approval on her outfit. And, Lord, did she look hot!

The figure felt a tap on his shoulder and fumbled with his binoculars in shock. He whipped around and adjusted his thick glasses. There a girl behind him. She looked almost identical to the woman he spying on, even her hairstyle, but her hair was a sky blue color, her eyes were bright red, and she wore glasses, a blue hoodie that was a size too big, and black sweatpants. She rolled her eyes. "Stalking my sister again, Anti-Juandissimo?"

"Uh..." Anti-Juan poofed away his binoculars. "No? Wait, why are _you_ here, Anti-Blonda?"

Anti-Blonda deadpanned. "I was watching you stare longingly through the window. First, it was funny, then it was sad," she shook her head in disappointment, "and now it's just plain creepy. And, not the good kind of creepy, like an abandoned asylum. The bad kind, like," she gestured broadly at him, "that."

Anti-Juan fiddled with his tie in embarrassment, refusing to look at his friend. "Oh, what does Anti-Cosmo have that I don't?"

"Let's see..." Anti-Blonda tacked off the answers on her fingers. "Power, an advanced IQ, good looks, nice biceps-"

"I've got a couple of those..." Anti-Juan muttered, despite knowing that he really didn't have those things.

Anti-Blonda sighed. She had run out of sympathy for him a long time ago. Now, she was just annoyed. "Anti-Juan, I'm sorry my sister broke your heart, but what are gonna do? Steal one of Cupid's love arrows?" Anti-Juan grinned and poofed away in a cloud that read, 'Exactly!' Anti-Blonda face-palmed. "I am going to learn to keep my big mouth shut." She floated away from the castle, and mere seconds later a projectile landed directly in front of her. She was only partially surprised at what she saw. "Get the girl yet, Romeo?" she quipped.

A charred Anti-Juan lifted his head up from the sidewalk. "Turns out Cupid's arrows are more heavily guarded than I thought." He shakily stood up. "Fortunately, I have a back-up plan."

* * *

And, so Anti-Juan had decided to ask an old friend of his for assistance. Unfortunately, this particular friend lived in a rather creepy mansion, which wouldn't have been a problem, had it not been for the guards. Right when Anti-Juan was about floated into the property, he was stopped by three small devils, who had their black pitchforks pointed dangerously close to his face.

"What do you want?" the devil in the middle asked in a gravelly, high-pitched voice.

Anti-Juan suppressed a shudder. Those devils were the reason Anti-Juan didn't come over often. They just rubbed him the wrong way. "I-I need to talk to Anti-Cupid."

The devils didn't move. "And, _why_ should we let you?" asked the one in the middle.

"Relax, fellas," a familiar voice said. "I know this guy."

Much to Anti-Juan's relief, the devils backed off, opening a path for Anti-Cupid, which wasn't necessary, since Anti-Cupid could have justed flew over them. Appearance-wise, Anti-Cupid was about the same as his counterpart, but with a blue and black color scheme, indigo hair, black jeans, and circular black buttons on his shirt.

Anti-Cupid shook his friend's hand. "Nice to see you, Anti-Juan. Come inside." As the two flew into the mansion, which was as creepy inside as it was outside, Anti-Cupid said, "Sorry about my guards. They take their jobs pretty seriously." He stopped in the middle of the foyer. "So, what brings you here, today?"

"Anti-Cupid," Anti-Juan began, "you're kind of like Cupid, right?"

Anti-Cupid raised an eyebrow. "I don't follow."

"Uh, well, I want Anti-Wanda to like me, so-"

"And, you came to _me_?" Anti-Cupid shook his head. "Dude, I'm the _opposite_ of Cupid. I don't know anything about love." Then, he remembered. "Although..."

"Although?"

Anti-Cupid chewed his bottom lip, debating whether or not to show his friend. His artillery was powerful, so much so that he rarely used it. Still...Anti-Cupid had yet to use this particular kind and was curious to see what effect it would have.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Anti-Juan saying, "Anti-Cupid? You were saying...?"

Having made up his mind, Anti-Cupid folded his arms, and the faintest trace of a threat was in his voice when he said, "You will not tell anyone what I am about to show you."

Anti-Juan blinked. This wasn't at all what he was expecting. "Uh...o-okay, man. I-I'll keep the secret."

Anti-Cupid poofed them to another part of his mansion, this one filled with various forms of weaponry, obviously including arrows. Seeing the skinnier anti-fairy's awe, Anti-Cupid cleared his throat. "Anti-Juandissimo," he floated to a seemingly innocent brick on the wall, "prepare yourself for what you are about to see."

Anti-Cupid placed a hand on the brick, which glowed a bright green color and slid open. Anti-Juan leaned in for a closer look. Anti-Cupid pulled something out of the opening. Really, it didn't seem all that impressive. It just seemed like one of Cupid's love arrows, only black instead of pink.

"Uh, what is it?" Anti-Juan asked, not really seeing what the big deal was.

"This, my dorky little friend," Anti-Cupid began, "is the Forbidden Love Arrow."

"I still don't follow."

Anti-Cupid rolled his blood-red eyes. "Do you know anything?" Anti-Juan shrugged sheepishly. "The Forbidden Love Arrow is the most powerful of Cupid's arrows. So, of course I had to steal it."

Anti-Juan touched the dull, surprisingly cold surface of the arrow. "How powerful, exactly?"

Anti-Cupid shrugged. "Heck, if I know. Although, I am pretty eager to find out."

"So, how does it work?"

"Just get Anti-Wanda, and you'll find out."

* * *

Later that day, two sisters had poofed themselves into a creepy alley. Although, for them it was a rather charming place. They looked around but did not find what they were looking for.

"You sure we're in the right place?" Anti-Wanda asked.

"Positive," Anti-Blonda confirmed. "Anti-Juan texted me that there was a free lunch buffet in this exact spot."

Her twin shrugged. "Maybe we're early. I hope so. If we're too late, I'm gonna be mighty pistled."

"I believe the word is-"

"I can't say that word on a K plus fanfiction." Anti-Wanda blinked in realization. "You said that Anti-Juan texted you, right? As in, Anti-Juandissimo, my ex-boyfriend?" Anti-Blonda nodded. "Well then, clearly he tricked you into bringing me hear, since he knew that _I_ wouldn't answer any of his calls. Meanwhile, he recruited Anti-Cupid to shook a Forbidden Love Arrow at me, so that I would fall in love with Anti-Juandissimo."

Anti-Blonda just floated there, mouth agape. Since when did her sister - her oblivious, dimwitted sister - manage to figure out...well, _anything_?

Suddenly, Anti-Wanda felt something wiggling around her hip. She pulled something out of her pocket and grinned, happily showing her discovery to her twin. "Hey, I just found a worm in my pocket!" Anti-Blonda face-palmed. "What?"

Meanwhile, atop a nearby building, Anti-Cupid aimed his arrow, and Anti-Juan watched nervously. Suddenly, this just didn't seem like a good idea. First off, was he _really_ so desperate that he was willing to steal someone else's _wife_? Second, Anti-Cosmo would probably kill him in his sleep. And third...

"I should warn you," Anti-Cupid said, "I'm not a very good shot."

"What?" Anti-Juan said just before processing what the anti-god told him.

Anti-Cupid fired an arrow...which ricocheted off a building and, rather conviniently, hit Anti-Wanda in the butt. She yelped in surprise and pain, as the arrow disolved into her. Her entire body felt almost unbearably hot for a moment, then a wave of dizziness passed over her. She collapsed into her surprised sister's arms, barely conscious.

"Anti-Wanda?" Anti-Blonda squeaked in alarm. "Sis? Snap out of it! Sis?"

Up on the building Anti-Juan was observing his crush with alarm. Anti-Cupid waved off his distress. "She'll be fine," he assured. "Probably. I have no idea how these arrows work."

Anti-Juan glared at him. "Then, why did you offer to use them?"

"Simple. I have little to no concern for the feelings of others." Anti-Cupid pointed down at the girls below. "Now, why you head on down there, and see if it worked?" Without waiting for an answer, he poofed Anti-Juan down into the alley.

A rather startled Anti-Blonda was the first to notice. "Anti-Juandissimo? What are you doing here?"

Not having an explanation prepared, Anti-Juan stuttered, "I-I, uh, I was just passing by, and I...heard s-something weird..."

Anti-Wanda stopped listening. She was too enthrolled in the man before her. He was _amazing_. His long black hair shined under the perpetual moonlight, and his ponytail waved gracefully in the gentle breeze. The light caught on his glasses, giving his blood-colored eyes an ominous, sexy appearance and juxtaposing beautifully with the soft lining of freckles on his cheeks.

Why had she broken up with him? Suddenly, she couldn't remember.

She broke from her sister's grip and floated toward this perfect anti-fairy. "H-hi, Anti-Juandissimo."

That look... Anti-Juan grinned. She hadn't looked at him that way in far too long. "Uh, you can...call me Anti-Juan, if you want. It-it's easier to say..."

 _Anti-Juan_... Flawless. Everything about him was flawless. "Anti-Juan. Um..." Anti-Wanda looked at her feet, anxious at what she wanted to ask of him. "Do you wanna...maybe...go...do something? Together?"

Anti-Juan nearly fainted. "Y-You mean, like...a _date_?" Anti-Wanda nodded and smiled shyly. "Okay, yeah, I can do that!"

Somehow, Anti-Wanda wasn't nearly as happy as she'd expected to be. Something was nagging at the back of her small mind. It was like the feeling she got when she knew she was doing something stupid, only a little worse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her sister pulling her away and asking, "Are you for real?" in a very confused way.

Anti-Wanda looked herself over briefly. "Nope. I'm a cartoon character in a fanfiction."

Anti-Blonda exhaled. She was losing patience, which was a little out-of-character for her. "I mean, aren't you forgetting someone?" Anti-Wanda tilted her head in confusion. "Someone you promised to spend rest of your endless life with? Someone hot and British? Someone whose name rhymes with Anti-Schnozmo?"

Anti-Wanda pursed her lips in thought then shook her head. "Nope. No one comes to mind. Though he sounds familiar, and I _do_ know a fellow named Anti-Schnozmo."

As Anti-Blonda realized the seriousness of the situation and poofed away in a cloud reading, 'Panic!' Anti-Wanda couldn't help wondering just who her sister was talking about. And, why the name 'Anti-Cosmo' made Anti-Wanda's heart beat a little faster.

* * *

 **I did not plan for this to last more than one part. Oh, well. It was getting long, so I broke it into two parts. Sue me. But, review first!**

 **Allusions...**

 **Title: The title references the phrase, "All's fair in love and war."**


	5. Love and War (Part Two)

**Summary: Anti-Cupid makes Anti-Wanda fall for her ex-boyfriend, so Anti-Blonda and Anti-Cosmo try to fix the problem.**

 **I changed the summary, since Cupid and Foop don't really do anything all that useful.**

* * *

 **Love and War (Part Two)**

Anti-Cosmo and Foop were in the castle's foyer, surrounded by torn-up dolls. Anti-Cosmo held an undamaged one, with one of his hands around the doll's midsection and the other gripping its head. Foop watched with anticipation. He knew this probably wasn't the same as doing it to a real person, but he was still eager to learn.

"You'll know you've done it right," Anti-Cosmo began, "when you hear the flesh rip, something like this." He quickly twisted the doll's head, until the seams ripped and stuffing puffed out of the opening.

Foop nodded in understanding. "I assume this is more difficult with a living creature?"

"Indeed." Their studies were interrupted by the sound of something slamming into the door. They rolled their eyes. "I can think of only one person who is clumsy enough to fall on to a door _that_ hard." They poofed to the front door, and Anti-Cosmo opened it.

Anti-Blonda toppled into the room. She immediately floated back up; she was rather used to falling over. "Guys, I have terrible news!" Without waiting for a response from her annoyed nephew and brother-in-law, she practically shouted, "Anti-Wanda is in love with Anti-Juandissimo!"

While Anti-Cosmo went completely rigid, Foop just asked in confusion, "Anti-Juandissimo? That dork, who's always making goo-goo eyes at Mother? There's no way in Heck she'd go for him. For badness sake, she's married to my father."

"It's not her fault," Anti-Blonda defended. "Anti-Cupid shot her with some freaky arrow, and she went completely ga-ga over her ex."

"So, this Anti-Cupid's fault?" Foop clarified. "Do you hear spontaneous grinding?" He turned around to find that his father had an axe to grind. Literally; he was grinding an axe on a huge, medieval metal grinder. "Father, what are you doing?"

Anti-Cosmo stopped grinding long enough to answer. "Just preparing for when I confront Anti-Cupid on this matter."

Foop shrugged. "Alright. Carry on." Returning his attention to his aunt, he assured, "Leave everything to us, Auntie. We'll take it from here."

Anti-Cosmo gazed at his freshly ground axe and giggled manically, like Candace on _Phineas and Ferb_. "Chop, chop, chop!" he swung at nothing, "Down you go!" His giggle turn into an all-out cackle.

"We may have to confiscate that axe," Anti-Blonda commented, unnerved at seeing her usually level-headed brother-in-law behave so violently.

* * *

Meanwhile, Anti-Juan and Anti-Wanda were down on Earth, spreading bad luck among unsuspecting humans. Anti-Juandissimo was having the time of his life! He'd forgotten just how much fun Anti-Wanda was. Of course, there _was_ still the matter of what would happen when Anti-Cosmo found out...but he'd cross that bridge when he got there. Anti-Wanda, however, couldn't ignore that nagging feeling at the back of her mind. It was almost as if she was betraying someone. But, that couldn't have been right, could it? It wasn't like she had another boyfriend, right?

Little did they know, Anti-Cupid was watching them on his monitors, which he typically used for keeping track of hatred or simply spying on people for his own amusement. He sipped from his cup of hot cocoa, a little disappointed. He figured a projectile called the 'Forbidden Love Arrow' would have some sort of side effect or something. But, no, it just seemed to have the effect of an ordinary love arrow.

He shrugged and muttered, "Forbidden or not, that arrow sure worked," before taking another sip.

"It certainly did."

Anti-Cupid comically spit out his cocoa and dropped his mug. It shattered as he spun his chair around. His stomach dropped to the floor, as he quickly hopped out of his seat. He _thought_ he recognized that accent. Sure enough, it was Anti-Cosmo. He was sitting casually - _way too_ casually - in a large, dark gray armchair, stroking a vampig (Anti-Cupid had heard about the pig-vampire hybrids, but he had never seen one before.) that was sitting on the chair next to him, and smiling in a way that was practically screaming, 'You have five seconds to live.'

Anti-Cupid choked back bile and started sweating, having a lot of trouble with hiding his fear. Had Anti-Cosmo figured what he did? Did someone tell him? But, who? It couldn't have been Anti-Juandissimo, but who else knew about this? Anti-Cupid gave a weak wave. "Uh, h-hi, Anti-C-Cosmo... W-what's with the vampig?"

"Oh, this little fellow? Well, I thought a cat would be cliché, so I brought Foop's weird pet." Anti-Cosmo shrugged. "I didn't care for him at first, but the creature's grown on me." The vampig oinked quietly and tried to crawl onto Anti-Cosmo's head - which wouldn't have been too hard, since the creature was almost as big as him. Anti-Cosmo tried to push him away, muttering, "Stop. _No_. Down, you animal!"

"That's enough, Vladimir." Anti-Cupid flinched. He hadn't heard Foop appear behind him. Foop spread his arms out welcomingly. "Now come to daddy!" The vampig - apparently named Vladimir - squealed as it hopped off the chair and ran excitedly to its master. Foop felt a sudden jolt of panic, as he realized how much bigger his pet was than him. "No! Don't come to daddy! Don't come to-" Vladimir flopped on top his face and sending him crashing to the ground. "C-Can't breath," Foop gasped. "Too much pig flab..."

While Anti-Cupid stared, confused and a little disturbed, Anti-Cosmo simply raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the first Vladimir nearly suffocated Foop, and it probably wouldn't be the last. "Not exactly how I imagined this going..."

"Uh," Anti-Cupid turned to face his ruler but did not look him in the eye. "W-What brings you here, anyway?"

"Oh, lots of things." Anti-Cosmo twirled his wrist in mock absent-mindedness. "I was in the neighborhood, I like hatred, I Love. My. Wife."

Anti-Cupid paled, willing himself not to throw up. "W-W-What does that ha-ave to do with anything?"

Anti-Cosmo was done pretending. He slammed his fists into the arms of the chair. "I know what you've done to her! You've made her go ga-ga over that annoying little twerp of an anti-fairy!" He jumped off his chair and slowly stormed up to the terrified anti-god, his wand glowing with a blue flame. He spoke through gritted teeth and barely contained rage. "Do you know what happens to those who mess with _my_ Anti-Wanda?"

Suddenly, Foop pushed his pet off of him and gasped for air. He pointed accusingly at his father. "Hey, you said I could use Vladimir as a threat!"

Anti-Cosmo pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Foop, you have completely obliterated the moment."

"But, you _promised_!"

"Dang it, Foop! Fine. Go ahead."

" _Thank you_." Foop cleared his throat and flew directly in front of Anti-Cupid's face, and growled, "I'm warning you; my pet is half-vampire, and he hasn't had his intake of _blood_ , yet. He usually only needs about a tablespoon per week for survival, but I'm sure he can handle taking _an entire body's worth_."

Anti-Cupid knew he should have been terrified, but he was a little distracted. "Did you brush your teeth this morning?"

"My father is within earshot, so I'm going say yes." Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "Now, tell us how to fix my mother, or your vital bodily fluids will go into my adorable, if not slightly horrifying, little vampig!" Vladimir squealed and lunged for Anti-Cupid, his mouth wide open and his over-sized fangs showing. Foop held him back. "Not yet, Vladimir. Not yet."

Normally, at this point, Anti-Cupid would have said anything they wanted. However, he didn't actually know the answer to their problem. "Um, hypothetically speaking, w-what would happen if, say, I did _not_ know how to reverse the arrow's affects?"

" _What_?" the father and son shouted in fury.

 _I really wish I was wearing a diaper_ , Anti-Cupid thought, feeling a familiar wet sensation.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You two relax." The anti-fairies saw that a certain pink-haired god had made a sudden appearance. And, he did not look happy. "I'll handle my counterpart."

"Cupid? Oh, that all I need," Anti-Cupid said, rolling his eyes. He waved dismissively at his counterpart. "Beat it, Super Diaper Baby. In case you haven't noticed, I've got enough to deal with, right now. What do you even want?"

Cupid crossed his arms. "I'd imagine the same thing Anti-Cosmo and Foop want: Anti-Wanda to fall out of love with Anti-Juandissimo."

Foop blinked in surprise. "You mean, you're actually on _our_ side?"

"I'm the God of Love, Foop. It's my duty to make sure that true love conquers all."

"That is the most cliché thing I have ever heard."

"So," Anti-Cosmo began, grabbing Anti-Cupid by the ear, as the anti-god tried to escape, "how exactly would we go about returning things to normal?"

Cupid chewed the inside of his cheek and awkwardly rubbed his arm. "Yeah, that's the tricky part. I would have to shoot Anti-Wanda with another Forbidden Love Arrow, but _somebody_ ," he emphasized with a pointed look at his counterpart, "used the only one I had left."

Anti-Cupid crossed his arms in defiance. "I'm not afraid of you, Cupid." He flinched, as Anti-Cosmo and Foop growled, and Vladimir bared his fangs. "Them? Them, I'm afraid of."

Cupid ignored the comment and rubbed his chin in thought. "You know, there _is_ one person who managed to break free of the spell. Anti-Wanda's fairy counterpart, Wanda."

Anti-Cosmo grabbed him by the shirt with one hand and poofed an axe into the another. "Tell me how she did it, or perish!"

Foop pointed to the axe and said, "I thought my auntie took that from you."

"I took it back."

Cupid broke himself free of Anti-Cosmo's grip and dusted himself off, saying, "Actually, it was Cosmo who broke the spell. I don't really know how to properly explain, but he sort of reminded Wanda of how much they love each other. You know, reminded of their good times together and all that."

Anti-Cosmo raised a suspicious eyebrow. "It's that simple?"

"Well, yes and no. The thing is, Anti-Juandissimo isn't in love with Anti-Wanda. He's thinks he is, but it's really just a crush. Anti-Wanda may be a few flirts short of a first date, if you know what I mean, but it won't be long belong before she realizes that."

"At the risk of getting brutally murdered," Anti-Cupid said timidly, poofing himself into protective padding, "what will happen when she does?"

Cupid scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, let's just say she won't...you know, survive..."

Anti-Cosmo used his axe to slice off Anti-Cupid's padding. Anti-Cupid swallowed thickly. "Hey, how about, instead of killing me, you go break the spell?"

That was a better idea. Anti-Cosmo poofed away the axe. "Foop, take care of him."

He transported himself away and Foop grinned in a giddy anticipation.

Cupid whispered to his terrified counterpart, "Good luck with that," before disappearing.

* * *

Anti-Juandissimo and Anti-Wanda had just arrived in front of the former's house. Although, the last thing they expected was Anti-Blonda sitting on the front porch. She spotted them and glowered at the male.

"Sis?" Anti-Wanda said. "What are you doin' here?"

Instead of answering, her sister grabbed her 'friend' by the wrist and dragged him off, muttering a quick, "Excuse us," before pulling him out of the earshot of a very confused Anti-Wanda. "This has gone on long enough, you idiot!" Anti-Blonda whisper-shouted. "Anti-Wanda is married! Seriously, this is _beyond_ sad!"

Anti-Juan wanted desperately to argue with her, but he knew she was right and sighed. "I know. I feel so pathetic."

"Because, you _are_ pathetic! Ya see, _this_ is why Anti-Wanda broke up with you! You're clingy and desperate! So, swallow what little pride you have, and undo whatever that arrow did!"

"Yeah..." Anti-Juan chewed his bottom lip. She was right. Dang it, why was she always right? "I really should fix this."

"Fix what?" They both started at Anti-Wanda's voice. How long had she been floating right beside them? "What do y'all have to fix?"

Anti-Blonda crossed her arms and raised an expectant eyebrow at him, and he sighed. "Anti-Wanda...I made a very big mistake." Anti-Wanda tilted her head, and no one noticed Anti-Cosmo appear nearby. "Ya see, in what I now realize was a _very_ desperate and embarrassing moment of my life...I may have made you fall for me against your will."

Anti-Cosmo wanted to interject, but at the same time, he was curious how his wife would react, so he bit his tongue.

"Huh?" Anti-Wanda asked, not having a clue what was going on.

"Well," Anti-Juan nervously dug the tip of his shoe into the imaginary dirt, "I guess you could say I'm breaking up with you-"

"Huh? W-Why? I don't understand..." Anti-Wanda's heart snapped in half. She had never been dumped before - although, she'd only ever had one boyfriend, but she was beginning to have vague memories of a second - and she didn't know it hurt. Okay, she assumed break-ups would hurt, but she didn't it would be _nearly_ this painful!

Seeing a tear slide down Anti-Wanda's cheek, Anti-Cosmo zipped in between her and her ex-boyfriend and pinned the latter against the wall of his house, seething. _No one_ got away with making his wife cry. "I'll say one thing, Anti-Juandissimo: If you hurt my wife, then you are either more gutsy or more stupid than I'd originally thought."

"When did _you_ get here?" Anti-Juan squeaked. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his ruler so angry.

Anti-Cosmo was too blinded by rage to answer. "Do you know what I do to those who upset Anti-Wanda?" He released one hand from the skinnier anti-fairy's collar and magicked his axe into it.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" Anti-Juan shouted, shaking and sweating and trying not to cry. "It was stupid! I wasn't thinking clearly!"

"What kind of pathetic excuse is _that_?"

Anti-Blonda simply watched in a shocked silence. She knew that she should probably break this up, before Anti-Cosmo did something _really_ crazy; it was rare that the usually calm, collected anti-fairy lost his temper. Yet, at the same time, she rather...well, enjoyed living.

Anti-Wanda, on the other hand, physically _couldn't_ seem to fine it in her to function. The pain in her heart had spread, forming the worst migraine she had ever had. She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples.

Her husband took no notice. "Anti-Wanda is the sweetest and most beautiful woman I've ever met, and the _last_ thing she needs is some _boob_ of an ex-boyfriend hurting her!"

The pain spread further, until her whole body felt like it was on fire. She struggled to breath. Her sister looked at her with concern. "Anti-Wanda?"

"Now, since it would be rude to obliterate you in front of the ladies," Anti-Cosmo nodded to the girls, "perhaps we should settle this elsewhere."

"Please spare me!" Anti-Juan shouted. "I wasn't _trying_ to upset her!"

"But, you _did_. And, that's all I need to know-" Anti-Wanda fainted, bringing Anti-Cosmo back to reality. "Anti-Wanda? Anti-Wanda!" His anger was quickly replaced with fear, as he magicked away his axe and knelt down beside his wife. "Sweetheart?"

An equally upset Anti-Juan lowered himself as well. "Is she okay?" He backed off, when Anti-Cosmo hissed at him. He muttered nervously, "Just wanted to know if she was okay..."

Anti-Blonda picked up her sister's wrist. "Her pulse is normal." She briefly laid her hand on Anti-Wanda's forehead. "She's not running a fever. And, I don't remember her ever suffering from any dizzy spells, before."

Spells...spells! The word clicked in Anti-Cosmo's brain. Could the Forbidden Love Arrow have done this to her? What did Cupid say about it? That it might- Anger once again flared up in Anti-Cosmo. If his wife was dead...heads would _literally_ roll. Starting with her idiot ex-boyfriend, because he was the reason a Forbidden Love Arrow was used in the first place. Then Anti-Cupid, because he was the one who used it.

"Mmph..." Anti-Wanda blinked herself back into consciousness. "W-Wha...?"

She was awake. Thank the devil, she was awake. Anti-Cosmo backed off a little. "Give her some space, everyone."

Anti-Wanda blinked a few more times and propped herself up on her elbows. "Anti-Cosmo? Anti-Blonda? What's goin' on?"

"Uh, hello?" Anti-Juan waved indignantly. "I'm here, too."

Anti-Wanda gave him a brief nod in greeting. "Oh, hey. Now, can someone tell me what in the name of Nebraska is goin' on, here?"

"You...you don't remember?" Anti-Blonda asked. Anti-Wanda shook her head. "You don't remember cheating on your husband with your ex-boyfriend?"

Anti-Cosmo glared at her - now was seriously _not_ the time to be telling her that - but Anti-Wanda didn't notice. "What?" she asked incredulously. "Have you been eating Smile Dip again? Seriously, where are we, and what are we doin' here?"

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help chuckling in relief. "Oh, it's not important." He took her hand - it felt so good to touch her again - and helped her to her feet. "Why don't we head home?"

Anti-Wanda noticed something else missing. "Hey, where's Foop?"

"Oh, don't worry about it," Anti-Cosmo answered as he put arm protectively around her waist - making her blush in the process - and they floated away. "I'm sure, where ever the boy is, he's doing something evil."

"Well, as long as it's evil."

As the couple left, Anti-Juan shrugged and smiled. "I guess I'm off the hook."

A bomb landed at his feet, and Anti-Blonda responded, "Guess not," before poofing herself to safety just before the bomb exploded.

* * *

Cupid gazed happily at Anti-Cupid's monitors. "And, the power of love triumphs once again."

Meanwhile, Anti-Cupid was backed into a corner. Cupid had confiscated his wand, leaving him unable to defend himself with magic. Foop was slowly floating closer, giggling in malicious glee.

"Guards! _Guards_!" Anti-Cupid called out in desperation. "Where the heck are my guards!?"

Foop smirked. "Your guards can't help you, because they've found themselves somewhat incapacitated." He poofed a grenade into his hand. "Now, be a good little victim, and hold still."

Anti-Cupid swallowed hard. "W-What do you mean, incapacitated? What did you do to them?"

* * *

The vampigs where a rather docile species. In fact, they had a natural instinct to _heal_ with their magic, not hurt. And, although they did, indeed, need to drink blood for survival, they only needed a minimum of a tablespoon per week, and they go an entire month without consuming any of the yummy red liquid. Still, Vladimir was nothing, if not loyal to his square master. So, when Foop told him to consume the blood of the red creatures - 'devils,' he had called them - Vladimir reluctantly obliged. At least Foop hadn't asked him to kill the three devils and not to merely drink the majority of their blood. _Then_ , Vladimir would have drawn the line.

Still, Vladimir felt guilt tug at his heart, as he licked the remaining blood from his lips and stared at the barely conscious devils. At least his master would be pleased with him. Besides, Vladimir had never had blood from a devil before, and it was pretty tasty. Nothing like the anti-fairy blood that he had grown accustomed to, but it wasn't bad.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Well, this turned out longer than I'd expected it to. No matter. It was fun to write! Review, everybody!**

 **Allusions...**

 _ **Courage, the Cowardly Dog**_ **: Anti-Cosmo wields an axe and says "Chop, chop, chop! Down you go!" like Eustace in "The Magic Tree of Nowhere."**

 **"Super Diaper** **Baby"** **: Anti-Cupid calls his counterpart "Super Diaper Baby," in a reference to the comics.**

 _ **Gravity** **Falls**_ **: Smile Dip from "The Inconveniencing" is mentioned.**

 **Fun Dip: Smile Dip is a parody of the candy.**

 _ **Phineas and Ferb**_ **: Anti-Wanda asks, "Hey, where's Foop?" in the same manor that _Phineas and Ferb_ characters ask, "Hey, where's Perry?"**


	6. Xye 101

**Summary: Foop is quick to befriend two new students in his class, until he learns that the new students are a powerful species of demon - a species whose diet includes anti-fairies.**

 **So, I'm adding new characters. I know FOP does that a lot, but this is a new series - kind of. New characters are inevitable!**

* * *

 **Xye 101**

It wasn't that Foop _hated_ school. He just wasn't crazy about homework. Or, his teacher. Or, his classmates. Or, anyone else in Spellementary School. So, when Mrs. Powers announced that two new students would be joining their class, naturally Foop had to throw a bomb at her.

Unfortunately, she tranported it away before it could detenate. She glared at him. "Foop, how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to throw things in class?"

Foop frowned and hid his other bomb behide his back. "I didn't do it!" he exclaimed hastily. Thinking fast, he pointed to his usual scapegoat and lied, "Uh, Sammy Sweetsparkle did!" He transported his bomb on to said student's desk, and the young elf looked at it curiously. "See? He even has a bomb on his desk!"

The bomb detenated, covering him in ash and making him faint, and Foop frowned deeper. _Sure, but it doesn't work on Mrs. Powers._

Mrs. Powers didn't seem to notice the elf's lack of consciousness and decided to return to the matter at hand. "As I was saying, we have two new students joining us, today! It is my pleasure to introduce," a little boy and girl walked into the room, "Brenda and Bryson Diablo!"

The room was dead silent, and Foop understood why. He didn't have a clue what species the new kids were. Or, if they were even young enough for kindergarten. They were both easily taller than Cathy 'Long Legs' Johnson - people got nicknames for a reason - and he was pretty sure the girl was wearing a _training bra_. Not to mention the fact that they seemed to lack any skin pigmentation whatsoever - leaving them with a strange off-white skin tone - and they had milky eyes that lacked both color and pupils. Despite all of that, their hair was surprisingly normal - straight and light brown, the boy's short and messy and the girl's long and in high pigtails. Even their clothes were similar but ordinary, if not a tad gothic; the boy wore a dark red long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black sneakers, while the girl wore a dark red cardigan over a gray camisole, black pants, and black flats. Neither of them seemed to mind the lack of greetings from the other students, and they were grinning in a way that showed off their sharp, almost monster-like teeth.

In a nutshell, they were kind of creepy-looking.

Mrs. Powers was oblivious to the silence. "Now, why don't you two introduce yourselves by telling the class something about you?"

The male was the more enthusiastic of the two, as was demonstrated by way he waved happily and exclaimed, "Hi, I'm Bryson! I like knife-collecting, hunting," he threw his arms around his sibling, "and driving my twin sister crazy!"

The aforementioned sister pushed him off of her. More specifically, she pushed him so hard that he was sent flying across the room and slammed into the wall, leaving a noticeable dent. Bryson laughed dumbly.

Brenda cleared her throat, as though nothing had just happened. "Obviously, I'm Brenda." Her voice was oddly deep and gravely, but it still sounded feminine. "I like ice cream, and...I like stabbing people."

On that note, Foop decided to give the new kids a chance. It sounded like he shared some interests with them.

Meanwhile, the classroom remained dead-silent. Eventually, Mrs. Powers cleared her throat. She smiled, but it was clear that she was as unnerved as everyone else in the room, Foop excluded. "Well, um, wh-why don't you kids take the two empty seats in the back, next to Foop. He's the square, blue young man."

Foop glanced at the empty desks next to him, wondering how he had never noticed them before. Brenda and Bryson walked to the back and tried to sit in the desks, but the kids were too tall. Poof, who was sitting next to his counterpart, shook his rattle and made the desks bigger.

Brenda and Bryson turned their heads simultaneously toward the round fairy and said, "Thank you," in a way that was truly horror film quality.

Poof swallowed in a sudden rush of fear and avoided eye contact with the new kids. "Y-you're welcome..."

Foop blinked twice in amazement. Even _he_ had never been able to scare Poof that badly. "I gotta admit," Foop said to the new kids, "anyone who can intimidate people so successfully is okay in my book."

Bryson, who was sitting in front of his twin, turned around in his seat and asked with a childish curiosity, "Was that a compliment, Sister?"

"I think so, Brother," Brenda replied with a smile.

"Now, class," Mrs. Powers began, her usual cheerfulness returning, "since we have new students, today's assignment is to pair up and interview your partner." She magicked a questionnaire on to each student's desk. "Then, you will share what you've learned about your partner with the class!"

Brenda coughed, "Lame!" into her fist, making Foop and Bryson snicker.

"Brenda!" Mrs. Powers narrowed her eyes at the girl. "Now, because this your first day here, I'll let you off with a warning, but I do _not_ tolerate disruptions in my class. Understood?"

Brenda folded her hands on her desk and smiled politely at the teacher. Her monotone gave even Foop chills. "Yes, Mrs. Powers. I will be a good girl, from now on..." She flashed a grin that reminded Mrs. Powers of a hungry shark that had just found its next meal.

Mrs. Powers's smiled was forced, and she started sweating. "Um...s-see that you are..."

Foop felt his heart beat just a little bit faster. In a good way.

Mrs. Powers awkwardly cleared her throat. "A-anyway, since there is an odd number of students in this class, we will have one group of three. Now, find your partners, everyone!"

The students merrily roamed the class, picking out their partner for the assignment. Foop looked around, but it didn't take long for everyone else find someone to work with. He mentally groaned. One partner was bad enough, but _two_? He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. The twins were at least twice his height.

"Come work with us, Foop," they said in a disturbing monotone.

Foop floated up to speak to them face to face and grinned. "Works for me!" Hey, if he had to have two partners, they may as well be the cool new kids, right? "You know, I don't say this about a lot of people, but I like you guys. You're every kind of creepy, and I respect anyone who can scare people with seemingly no effort."

"Thanks, Foop!" Bryson said. He grabbed the anti-baby in a bone-crushing hug.

Brenda yanked Foop out of Bryson's grip. "Sorry about him," she apologized. "He gets really excited about...everything."

Foop waved off the comment. "Oh, no matter. I'm quite used to strangle-hugs." He deadpanned suddenly. "My mother never seems to know the meaning of the phrase, 'You're choking me.'"

Brenda laughed, and the sound reminded Foop of a zombie devouring flesh. To him, it was a rather melodic sound. She grabbed his hand, and he made, what he considered, the most embarrassingly high-pitched yelp in history. Brenda didn't notice the yelp nor his now-purple cheeks. "C'mon. Let's get started on the stupidity that is this assignment."

"I like this assignment!" Bryson piped. He had turned three desks so that they faced each other, and he, his sister, and Foop sat down at them. Actually, Foop sat _on_ his desk so he could be closer to eye-level with the twins. "It'll give us a chance to make our first friend at this school!"

Foop raised an eyebrow. "Why is only one of you cool?"

"Xye twins are typically polar opposites," Brenda answered.

"Opposites!" Bryson repeated.

Foop just looked at them. "Xye? What the heck is a Xye?"

Brenda shrugged. "Oh, it's just our breed of demon."

"There are different types of demons?"

"Sure." Brenda counted off the breeds on her fingers. "There are Xye, Devils, Dreamscapers-"

"Our Uncle Bill, is a Dreamscaper!" Bryson added. "He makes nightmares for a living."

Foop rubbed his chin. "I've heard of Dreamscapers and Devils, but never Xye."

Brenda bit her lip. Hers and her brother's breed was exactly the reason they had no none-Xye friends. Knowing anything about the breed might make Foop shy away from them. Normally, she wouldn't care, but Bryson was really hoping to 'expand his horizons' or whatever he'd told her that morning. Besides, Foop was kind of cute in a boyish sort of way.

Apparently, Bryson didn't share her misgivings. "The Xye are a powerful breed of demon," he began. Brenda face-palmed. "We have a sense of smell and hearing that is a ba-jillion times that of an Earth-dog, and we have super strength and super speed. And, we feast off of other creatures' flesh."

Brenda was expecting instant rejection. Not Foop laughing in delight. "And, here I thought getting new students would be torture! You guys are even cooler than I thought!"

* * *

Anti-Goldie wasn't comfortable around new people, because new people made her worry about what she looked like, what they would think of her, ex cetera.

Unfortunately, Foop didn't seem to care, as he dragged her through the cafeteria with one hand and balanced his lunch tray on the other. "You'll like them, Anti-Goldie," he assured. "Bryson and Brenda are really cool. There they are!" Foop yanked on her arm. "C'mon!"

Anti-Goldie hadn't seen Foop this enthusiastic, since she invited him to vandalize human property with her. These new kids must have really taken a shine to him. Then, Anti-Goldie saw where they were heading and stopped abruptly.

Foop turned to her, confused. "Anti-Goldie?"

"Foop, do you know what those guys are?" she asked fearfully.

"Yeah. Bryson told me. They're a breed of demon called the Xye."

"I know that. My dad told me about them. Do you know what they _eat_?"

Foop shrugged. "I just assumed they ate the same things we do."

"No, you idiot! They eat meat! As in magical creatures, like us!"

Foop had no response. His stomach churned. "Y-You-You can't be serious..."

Anti-Goldie swallowed thickly. "I wish I wasn't."

Foop turned around and saw the Xye twins waving happily at them, their teeth showing. Their sharp teeth that, now that he thought about it, were probably perfect for ripping flesh... He shook off the thought. "I-I refuse to believe that!" He poofed himself to the twins' table. "Hello, new friends!"

They both snarled at him, saliva bubbling out of their mouths. Foop screamed like a girl and poofed away in the cloud that said, 'Fear!'

* * *

All Anti-Cosmo wanted to do was start reading _The Darkest Minds_ trilogy. unfortunately, Foop's pet vampig, Vladimir, decided to grab the Earth book with his mouth and run away with it. The worst part? Vampigs were impervious to magic, so Anti-Cosmo had no choice but to chase the creature. Vladimir stopped in front of Foop's room, and Anti-Cosmo indignantly snatched the book away from him. He started to float away, but Vladimir's urgent squealing made him turn back around. Despite appearances, vampigs were highly intelligent creatures. It suddenly occurred to Anti-Cosmo that he may have been brought to his son's room for a reason.

"You want me to go in there?" he asked, pointing to the door. Vladimir head-butted the door in response, pushing it open. Anti-Cosmo flipped on the light switch. He didn't believe what he seeing. "Foop?"

His son was wearing a medieval suit of armor and holding a huge battle axe. "Oh, hello, Father."

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow. "Foop, why aren't you in school?"

Foop deadpanned. "Seriously? I'm wearing a suit of armor and holding a battle axe, and _that's_ what you want to know?" His father shrugged, and Foop sighed. "If you must know, there are these new kids at school, and I think they want to eat me. So, I poofed back here to grab some supplies."

"And, why do you think these kids want to eat you?"

"Because, they're Xye. And, Anti-Goldie said that Xye eat anti-fairies."

"Did she tell you that Xye can't digest meat until they're twenty-one?"

Foop opened his mouth then closed it. He blinked. "What?"

"Meat of any kind gives Xye indigestion until the age of twenty-one."

"...You're serious."

"Yes."

Foop let that sink in then face-palmed. He poofed away in a cloud that said, 'Oh, come on!'

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes at his son's shenanigans. "Well, Vladimir," he said to the creature next to him, "looks like it's just you and me." Vladimir once again grabbed the book in his teeth and ran away. "Do you want to show me something else," Anti-Cosmo asked suspiciously, as he followed the vampig, "or are you just playing now?"

* * *

Meanwhile Foop had reappeared in the lunchroom and was beratting his anti-baby-friend. "Why didn't you tell me they wouldn't eat us 'til they were older!?"

The frightened Anti-Goldie raised her hands in defense. "I didn't know!"

"Foop!" Foop turned around at the sound of a male calling his name. Brenda and Bryson ran up to him, looking guilty. "We've been looking for you, Foop. We're really sorry we freaked you out."

"You see, out instincts tell us to threaten anything that startles us," Brenda added, "and we're not really accustomed to teleportation."

Suddenly, Foop felt just as guilty. He didn't know anything about Xye, and he didn't think that his magic would frighten his new friends. He sighed. "No, I-I should have been more careful. I was just excited to meet people as sadistic as I am, and I wasn't really thinking."

"And, I should have gotten my facts straight," Anti-Goldie added, wringing her hands and looking at the floor.

Bryson chuckled. "I guess we're all to blame."

Brenda shrugged. "Well, no sense dwelling on it. It's better to learn from your mistakes than to think too hard about the consequences."

"That's some mature junk, sister," Bryson said, approvingly.

"Yeah," Foop agreed. "You're very wise, Brenda."

Brenda looked away and smiled bashfully. "Ha ha. If I had blood, I'd probably blush right now."

Anti-Goldie looked at her watch. "Well, we still have ten minutes left of lunch. What do you guys wanna do?"

Brenda grinned and grabbed an apple off of Sammy's lunch tray. She threw it at a nearby leprechaun and shouted, " _Food fight_!"

Within moments, the entire cafeteria was in chaos, as the students began pelting each other with their lunches. The anti-babies and the Xye took shelter under one of the lunch tables and happily watched the anarchy.

Foop glanced at Brenda. "You're a really cool monster, you know that?"

Brenda shrugged. "Takes one to know one." Foop blushed.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Review, and please let me know which one you may or may not ship: FoopXAnti-Goldie or Fenda (FoopXBrenda)**

 **Allusions...**

 _ **Gravity** **Falls**_ **: Brenda and Bryson's personalities are similar to Dipper and Mabel's (which I did not realize until after I started typing this). Also, Bryson mentions having an Uncle Bill, who is a Dreamscaper. This is a reference to Bill Cipher and his debut episode, "Dreamscapers."**

 _ **The**_ ** _Shining_ : Brenda and Bryson say, "Come work with us, Foop," in the same as when the twins from the movie say, "Come play with us, Danny."**

 **Alexandra Bracken: Anti-Cosmo was reading her novel, _The Darkest Minds_.**


	7. Anti-Fairy Tales (Part One)

**Summary: Foop reads Brenda and Bryson some unusual versions of classic fairy tales. (Based on "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales")**

 **Request from The creator of the IGIRLS.**

* * *

 **Anti-Fairy Tales (Part One)  
**

Foop and his Xye friends, Brenda and Bryson, sat in a circle (er, triangle) on the floor in Foop's room. Each one was sitting on his/her sleeping bag. Foop wore blue striped pajamas, Bryson wore plain gray ones, and Brenda wore a black nightgown. Her pigtails were out, so her light brown hair almost touched the floor. Anti-Goldie would have come, if she was still nervous around the two Xye.

"Thanks for inviting us over, Foop," Bryson said. "We've never been to a sleepover, before. What do people do at these things, anyway?"

"I heard something about a game called Spin the Bottle," Brenda responded, "so I looked it up." She grimaced. "Turns out it involves _kissing_."

Foop glanced at her with interest, imagining his lips against hers. "Does it, now?"

Bryson laid down on his back, looking at the anti-baby upside-down. "So, Foop, ya got anything planned? 'Cause, Sister and I are clueless."

"Well, there _is_ something you guys may be interested in." Foop raised his bottle and poofed up a dark purple book.

Bryson flipped himself over and read the title. "'Anti-Fairy Tales?' Booooo!"

Foop wagged his finger and chuckled at his friends antics. "Oh, no no, Bryson. These aren't the fairy tales that the human doctored up. These are the original stories that were written by anti-fairies."

"So, they're actually entertaining?" Brenda asked.

Foop opened the book. "Absolutely." He pointed to one of the pages. "Here's a good one: 'Little Blue Riding Hood.' It's about a girl named Blue, who gets attacked by a werewolf."

Brenda blinked. "With a name like Blue, I can see why she was attacked."

"Read it! Read it! Read it!" Bryson chanted.

"Alright, alright," Foop said. "Calm down." He began reading. "'Once upon a time-'"

Bryson raised an eyebrow. "Who still says 'upon?'"

Brenda kicked him gently in the side. "It's an old book, doofus. Don't interrupt."

Foop cleared his throat. "'Once upon a time, there was young girl named Blue. She was given this nickname because of the blue hoodie she always wore.'"

"Okay, _now_ the name makes sense," Bryson interupted.

" _Hush_!" Brenda chided.

Foop continued. "'Blue's grandmother had fallen ill, so Blue decided to bake her some spider web cookies to cheer her up-'"

Bryson raised his hand, oblivious to the glare he was getting from the other two. "Question: What are spider web cookies?"

"They're like shortbread cookies but with the edition of spider webs."

"Who would wanna eat-" Brenda growled at him. Bryson wasn't intimidated, but he got the message. "Sorry. I'll shut up."

Foop rolled his eyes before continuing. "'Blue had to deliver the cookies by trekking through the creepiest part of the forest..."

* * *

Blue - who looked eerily similar to Anti-Goldie - merrily flew through the forest, a basket of cookies in her hand. The starless night sky and light of the full moon made the forest even creepier, but the young anti-fairy was rather at home in the eery setting. She hummed as her little bat wings flew her through the darkness.

 _"'All was well, until she arrived at her grandmother's house.'"_

She knocked on the door, and it opened slightly. Confused, Blue opened the door a little more opened peered inside. "Grandma?" she called.

There was no answer. Now, Blue was worried. Grandma _never_ left the door unlocked if she wasn't home. Blue flew through the rest of the house, calling for her grandmother. Just as she was about to give up, she found something that worried her even more. Her grandmother - who looked like Anti-Mama Cosma - was crouched down on her knees in the bathroom, holding her head and shivering.

"Grandma! What's the matter?" Blue asked.

Grandma's head snapped up, and she warned, "Don't come any closer!"

Blue squeaked in alarm. What was going on? "Grandma, what- What...yellow eyes you have?" _I thought her eyes were red._

Grandma swallowed thickly. Not wanting to frighten her granddaughter even more, she hastily replied, "Um, the-the better to see you with, my dear."

Grandma's arms grew...was that fur? "What, uh, hairy arms you have..."

"The better to...hug you with."

"What...big...t-teeth you...have..."

Grandma's body grew and shifted. Blue dropped her basket. Grandma had turned into a wolf? How was that possible!? "The better to _eat_ you with!" the wolf snarled, her voice much deeper and more gravelly than usual.

 _"'It seemed that Grandma's supposed 'illness' was actually due to her recent becoming of a werewolf. Since werewolves couldn't control their natural hunger for meat, and since they were immune to magic, Blue bolted from the house, her transformed grandmother hot on her tail.'"_

* * *

"Ooooohhhh!" Bryson squealed in excitement. "I love dramatic chase scenes!"

Fed up, Foop and Brenda shouted, " _Stop talking, Bryson_!"

Foop cleared his throat. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the chase scene."

* * *

Blue flew as fast as her wings could carry her, blood roaring in her ears. What had happened to her grandmother? Surely, there was something she could do to help! Suddenly, Blue realized that she had flown into a corner. She was trapped.

 _"Couldn't she just poof herself to safety?"_

 _"Be quiet, Brother!"_

 _"I just think-"_

 _"Listen to your sister, or perish!"_

The wolf stalked up to the terrified Blue, its lips drawn back and dripping with saliva. Blue squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for her brutal end. Suddenly, she heard a loud _thump_. She opened her eyes. The wolf had been hit with the blunt side of an axe and collapsed. The holder of the axe was a lumberjack, who looked like Anti-Cosmo without the monocle.

 _"Whoa, whoa, whoa. A random lumberjack? That seems like lazy writing."_

 _"What did Brenda tell you about being quiet!?"_

 _"Sorry."_

The lumberjack sat his axe in the grass and looked worriedly at Blue. "Are you alright, miss?"

Blue was too shaken to be 'alright.' "My-My grandma... Sh-She-She's-"

The lumberjack sighed. "I know. She was bitten a few nights ago."

"A few nights ago?" That was when she had gotten sick...

"Fortunately, I think I have a solution." He poofed up a small vial. "This elixir should fix everything."

He poured it over the wolf, and smoke poured from the creature's body. Or, maybe from the liquid. Blue wasn't sure. Within seconds, the wolf turned back into a sleeping Grandma. Blue gasped in delight and astonishment. She wanted desperately to wrap her arms around her grandmother and never let go, but she was too stunned to move.

"She'll be fine, once she wakes up," the lumberjack informed. "I already took care of the werewolf that turned her, so the forest is slightly safer, now."

"Th-Thank you!" Blue exclaimed. She frowned. "Wait, by 'took care of,' you mean that you used the elixir, right?"

"...Sure..."

 _"'The end.'"_

* * *

"What?" Bryson said, disappointed. "What kind of ending was that? An elixir that fixes everything? There's nothing realistic about that."

Foop glared daggers. "Well, excuse," he glanced down at the page, "Anti-Jet Anti-Engine for being a bad author. Seriously, do you have to nit-pick _every_ detail?"

"Yeah, come on, Bryson," Brenda agreed.

Bryson laughed nervously. "Sorry. I-I'll stop."

"You better," Foop warned. He handed the book to Brenda. "Here. Why don't you read the next one? I know _you'll_ pick a winner."

"Hm..." Brenda flipped through the book, wondering which story to read. "'Beatrice and the Beast?' What's this one about?"

Foop grimaced. "Oh, that one. I-It's just some romantic story about some chick, who falls for a monster."

Brenda grinned. "Cool! Romance is my all-time favorite genre."

Foop poofed closer to her, smiling. "Mine, too! I've loved it since...always!" He leaned into her side, a shy grin on his face. "You know, romantic stories are...a-are really good excuse to cuddle..."

"I couldn't agree more!" Bryson piped. He walked on his knees toward Foop and spread out his arms. "Cuddle with me, Foop!" The disturbed Foop back away slowly, and Bryson followed. "Cuddllleeee!"

Brenda gave them a brief, curious glance before reading. "'Once upon a time, there was a wealthy merchant, who lived in the only two-story house in the village..."

Foop was too busy fleeing to listen. "Bryson, I don't like you that way!"

* * *

 _"'He was most handsome man in the land, and he was a bit of a player, because of this combined with his wealth. One day, a female leprechaun grew tired of the way the merchant treated women, so she mixed eye of newt, toe of frog, and blood of unicorn, creating a magic elixir-'"_

* * *

Hugging an emotionally-scarred anti-baby, Bryson groaned, "Oh, here we go again with the elixir."

Brenda glared. "Bryson, stop interrupting! And, put Foop down. He doesn't like you that way."

Bryson dropped Foop, who fell face-first on to the floor. He poofed to Brenda's side and wrapped his much smaller arms around her. Feeling sorry for her friend, Brenda draped an arm around him.

Foop grinned. Girls always fell for the old 'I-need-a-hug' trick. "We're hugging!"

"Oh, sure, you cuddle with _her_ ," Bryson complained, crossing his arms.

Remembering the male Xye's unexpected clingy-ness, Foop shuddered and snuggled closer to the female.

Brenda sighed. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

 _"-creating a magic elixir that would make the merchant hideous to look at."_

The leprechaun - who looked exactly like Anastasia McShamrock **(see the episode, "Lady Luck")** \- laughed cruelly at the merchant. The once handsome man was now covered from head to toe in green fur. His emerald eyes became a dull green, and his hands and feet grew jagged claws. His teeth yellowed and grew to those of monsters, and his ears moved to the top of his head and looked like those of a cat. He had even lost his wings.

"What have you done to me?" the merchant snarled, his charming British accent replaced with a shrill American one **(also known as Cosmo's voice)**.

The leprechaun crossed her arms. "Oh, I just put you in your place, I did."

The merchant clenched his fists, fighting the urge to rip her apart. "Change. Me. Back."

The leprechaun wagged her finger. "Ah, ah, ah. No can do, lad. The spell will only be broken, when someone falls in love with you."

"Who in the right mind will fall for me, like _this_?"

"Not my problem." She raised her shillelagh and poofed away.

A woman's scream pierced the air. She pointed at the merchant and exclaimed in horror, "What is it!?"

The merchant to took a cautious step toward the woman. "C-Calm down, ma'am." The woman took a step back. "I-I'm not going to hurt you-"

"Hey!" a man cried out. "That beast is attacking that lady!"

The merchant shook his head. "No, no, it's not like that! I-"

The anti-fairies around him starting crying out in fear and anger. Some fired rays of black magic at him, burning where ever they hit. Heart braking at the sudden malice toward him, the merchant ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

* * *

Bryson gasped, clutching Foop tightly. "They drove him out!? Why would they do that!?"

Brenda shrugged. "Probably because angry mobs aren't rational."

Bryson squeezed his friend tighter. " _Oh my crud_!"

Foop struggled. "Let go of me, you imbecile! I told you, I don't like you that way!"

Brenda was done with trying to stop her brother's forceful cuddling. She continued reading. "'Meanwhile, a woman named Beatrice was sweeping her kitchen floor, when she heard some commotion outside...'"

* * *

Beatrice - a woman who looked suspiciously like Anti-Wanda - looked out the window. An angry mob was chanting, "Kill the beast!" as they chased a...well, beast.

 _"'Now, Beatrice wasn't like the other villagers, who feared anything that looked dangerous. She actually felt sorry for the beast, so when the angry mob eventually disbanded and returned home, she decided to search for the beast, hoping that he was still alive.'"_

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Yeah, this was getting long, so I broke it into two parts. There will be a third fairy tale, but I'm not sure what it'll be yet. If you want, you can review or PM me some suggestions. Or, you could just review in general.  
**

 **Allusions...**

 **Fairy Tales: "Little Red Riding Hood" and "Beauty and the Beast" are parodied.**

 _ **MacBeth**_ **: "Eye of newt" and "Toe of frog" are references to Shakespeare's play.  
**

 _ **Harvey** **Beaks**_ **: Bryson's reaction to the merchant being chased parodies Harvey's reaction to his father's scary story in the episode, "Comet Night?"**


	8. Anti-Fairy Tales (Part Two)

**Summary: Foop reads Brenda and Bryson some unusual versions of classic fairy tales. (Based on "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales")**

* * *

 **Anti-Fairy Tales (Part Two)**

" _Ugh_ ," Bryson whined, plopping on to his back. "Why did we have to wait so long to finish the story?"

Foop crossed his arms. "I blame the stupid author." He waved his fist. "She will suffer for making us wait!"

Brenda sighed. "If you two are done breaking the fourth wall, we have a story to finish." She continued reading 'Beatrice and the Beast.' "'Beatrice found the beast deep in the woods, leaning against a tree and catching his breath...'"

* * *

"Uh, excuse me?" Beatrice tapped on his shoulder. The beast drew in a sharp breath and whipped around, eyes wild with fear. Beatrice flinched. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. Um, you okay?"

The beast took in her delicate features and decided that she meant no harm. "As well as can be expected, I suppose," he answered in a clipped tone, still not convinced that she was sincerely worried.

Beatrice nodded. She extended her hand and offered a shy smile. "I'm Beatrice."

"Why are you speaking to me?" the beast asked. His tone wasn't rude, merely curious.

Realizing that he wasn't going to shake her hand, Beatrice lowered her arm. "I-I saw them villagers chasin' ya. I wanted to make sure you wasn't hurt or nothin'."

The beast rolled his eyes. Who could possible care about him in _this_ state? He turned around. "Go home, Beatrice."

He started to walk away, but a small hand wrapped itself around his wrist. Fear snaked its way into his stomach. He should have left sooner. He should have ran when he had the chance. Now, the girl was going to...well, he didn't know, but it wouldn't be any better than what the others had done. She would shun him. She would try to kill him just like everyone else. He slowly turned to face her, fearing the worst.

To his surprise, her gaze softened considerably. "Hey, it-it's okay."

It was then that he realized how moist his eyes had become. He hastily wiped at them, and she grabbed his other hand. "Let go," he said, wishing his voice would stop shaking.

Beatrice shook her head. "You're upset, and you're going to tell me what happened." It was a demand, if he ever heard one.

The beast felt like every vapor of oxygen had retreated from his body. This girl wasn't like the others. She wasn't attacking him or shying away from him. She was boldly holding his wrists, locking her stern bubblegum eyes to his fearful dull green ones. She really _was_ worried about him. He looked like a monster, and she didn't seem to even notice.

When he finally found his voice, he asked quietly, "Why do you care?"

"Because I know how that darn village opra-cates."

"Um, do you mean, operates?"

"They don't take well to monsters, whether they're nice or not."

"And, how do you know I'm nice?"

Beatrice pursed her lips in thought. "I don't know." She shrugged. "I just...have a feeling 'bout you, I guess." She laughed suddenly. "Here I am, blabbin' my mouth off, and ain't got your name."

The beast swallowed thickly, wondering how a woman he'd just met could make him so anxious. "Adam. My name is Adam."

Recognition lit up Beatrice's features. "Hey, there's a handsome merchant in the village named Adam! He's nice, like you!"

Adam laughed bitterly. "What a coinsidence."

Beatrice raised an eyebrow at his sudden somberness, but she didn't comment. Then, she realized that she was still holding his wrists and let go. "So...you live here in the woods, I assume."

"Uh..." Adam looked around. He certainly couldn't go home but he didn't want to worry the girl so he said, "Yeah... I have a...place around here..."

"By yourself? Don't ya get lonely?"

Adam had no answer.

Beatrice just shrugged. "Well, ya like what ya like, I guess."

"Hm..." Adam wouldn't let her know how little he liked this. "Well, uh, it's getting late."

Beatrice checked her watch and raised an eyebrow. "So, it is. Guess I'll be headin' home."

"Perhaps I should come with you," Adam offered. While he didn't know much about the area, he knew that the worst creatures hunted at night. "The woods can be pretty dangerous, this time of night."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay." Beatrice took a few steps toward the village and stopped, looking around. "Um...which way's which?"

Adam chuckled at her naivety. He walked up to her and took her hand, trying to ignore the tingles that surged up his arm at the touch. "Come along, Beatrice. It's right this way."

 _"Over the next few weeks, Beatrice would come out to the woods as often as she could. She and Adam would find each other and talk or climb trees or whatever else they felt like doing. The two became remarkably close."_

* * *

Bryson grinned at Foop. "Me thinks romance is going to happen, soon!"

Foop continued hugging Brenda as he snarled, "Me thinks you better keep your hands to yourself!"

"Come on! One little hug!"

"You've hugged me more than enough!"

Brenda groaned. "Bryson, Foop doesn't like you that way. Foop, I promise to protect you, no matter what."

Foop looked away in an attempt to cover his blush and goofy grin. "I-I-uh-th-thank you." He snuggled further into her. "I appreciate it."

Bryson glared at him. "Hey, how come you keep cuddling with my sister, but you won't cuddle with me?"

"Please, keep reading," Foop begged his crush.

"Can do," Brenda replied. "'The leprechaun who cursed Adam eventually learned of Beatrice's visits. The last thing the leprechaun wanted was for Adam to return to normal. She feared that he would go back to his old, player ways. And, frankly, she was evil, so she didn't care about anyone but herself."

Bryson tilted his head. "So, she's a politician?"

Foop snorted.

* * *

It was nighttime. An angry mob, carrying the traditional pitch forks and torches, was gathered in the Town Square, chattering excitedly.

The leprechaun stood on the rim of the water fountain and whistled loudly. Everyone quieted down, except for one man, who at her and said, "Hi, Annie!"

The leprechaun, Annie, ignored him. "What we here for?" she cried out, knowing exactly why she gathered them.

"To kill the beast!" the mob shouted in unison.

Annie pointed toward the forest. "I know where to find him, and I know that he has been torturing one of our fellow villagers for days." Startled murmuring filled the crowd.

Meanwhile, Beatrice was in the back and couldn't believe what she was hearing. "That ain't true..." she breathed. She had to warn Adam.

Annie jumped down from the fountain, murder filled her sky blue eyes. Her red curls flew in the wind, making her head look like it was on fire. "Come along, my friends! Let us kill the beast!"

As the mob screamed in excitement and followed the leprechaun to the forest, Beatrice took another route. She ran as fast as her legs were carry her. She _had_ to reach Adam before the angry mob did.

 _"Y'know, she could have poofed herself to Adam."_

 _"Let Brenda read!"_

 _"I'm just saying, it's 'Little Blue Riding Hood' all over again."_

 _"Knock it off, you twit!"_

 _"Foop, calm down. Bryson, stop interrupting."_

Terror surged through Adam, as he found himself backed into a corner in the woods, surrounded by angry villagers. He glared daggers at their leader, but Annie just laughed manically.

" _Hey_!" a women shouted. Beatrice pushed her way through the crowd, saying, "S'cuse me. Pardon me. Sorry. S'cuse me. Hey, watch the hands!" She ran to Adam and through her arms around him. He was about to return the embrace, when she whipped around and pointed her wand to the crowd. "Y'all leave him alone, or y'all gonna get it!"

Annie gritted her teeth. "He's a monster! Now, get out of the way!" She pointed her shelailagh and fired a blast that sent Beatrice toppling to the side.

Adam gasped her wounded form. He wasn't the only one worried. He, along with a few other people, rushed to her side. Annie just laughed. Adam balled his fists in anger and stood to face her. " _You're_ the monster! Look at her! Do you know how badly you could have hurt her?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Please. She was in the way. Besides, Adam, I can't true love fixing you. _I_ turned you into a monster, and _I'll_ decide when, and if, you turn back!" The mob behind gasped at her accidental confession. Annie gulped. "I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Someone pointed at her. "She created the beast!"

"Get her!" Someone else shouted.

Annie spoke calmly. "Whoa, whoa, guys. I think you're being a bit dramatic, ya are. Let's just take a deep breath, and-" she pointed somewhere. "Look! A distraction!"

Everyone looked in that direction, and Annie ran. The mob realized that they had been tricked and chased her, leaving Adam and Beatrice alone together.

Adam incredulously at her. "Why did you save me?"

Beatrice her lip and shyly squeezed a strand of her hair. "I just... Um, I-I'm not good at talkin', so, uh..." She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his lips.

Heart and stomach fluttering in happiness, Adam wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. A light came over his body, but neither of them noticed. They broke apart as the light faded. Adam - now looking and sounding a lot like Anti-Cosmo - looked down at himself in pure happiness as he realized what had happened.

Unfortunately, Beatrice didn't recognize him and screamed. "Aaahh! Wrong Adam kissin' me!" She picked up a large rock from nearby and raised it threateningly. "I'll kill you!"

Adam waved his hands in fear. "Wait, wait, wait!"

 _"After explaining why he was now a hansome man again, Adam and Beatrice lived happily ever after. The end."_

* * *

Bryson scowled. "Seriously? Does every story have a stupid ending?"

Brenda would have rolled her eyes, if she was physically capable of doing so. "I wasn't expecting _you_ to like it. I, for one, thought it was really sweet. What did you think- Foop?" To her surprise, Foop was still cuddling up to her, but now his eyes were closed and there was a dreamy smile on his face. "Foop? Foop!"

Foop's eyes snapped open and he flew off his crush in embarrassment. "Uh, s-sorry! You-You just smelled so good..."

Brenda raised her arm and sniffed her armpit. She smiled and waved off Foop's compliment. "Ah, it's nothing but blood, sweat, and tears. None of which are mine."

"Gimme!" Bryson piped as he snatched the book from his twin's hands. "I wanna read a story!"

"You'll just critisize every stinkin' part of it!" Foop protested.

Bryson shook his head. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna pick a good one."

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Last chance to submit your ideas for fairy tales to parody! Review!**

 **Allusions...**

 _ **Beauty and the Beast**_ **: This is the fairy tale parodied. Also, there was a rumor that the beast's name was Prince Adam, but the rumor is false.**


	9. Anti-Fairy Tales (Part Three)

**Summary: Foop reads Brenda and Bryson some unusual versions of classic fairy tales. (Based on "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales")**

 **Is it me, or did I take a _really_ long time to update this? Well, you know how unpredictable inspiration is. Also, I wanted to do a thing with anti-fairies celebrating Hanukkah - because they're the opposites of fairies - but I couldn't think of anything. Also, I don't know that much about Hanukkah. I'm a Christmas person.**

* * *

 **Anti-Fairy Tales (Part Three)**

Bryson flipped through the book and stopped on one of the pages. "This one sounds promising: 'Jack and the Cornstalk.' I like corn! What's this one about, Foop?"

Foop perked up a little. "Oh, it's a good one! This moron named Jack travels up an enormous corn stalk and has a run-in with an angry giant!"

"Cool!" Brenda grinned. "Does anyone get squished under his giant foot?"

"No, but that would have been a good addition to the story."

Bryson cleared his throat dramatically. "'Once upon a time, there lived two brothers: Wilson, the older brother, and Jack, the younger brother...'"

* * *

 _"They lived together as farmers, but a drought had drastically reduced their crop harvest. The only thing they had left that really made them any money was a cow. A bizarre mutant cow, to be exact, whom tourists paid to see."_

Wilson - who bared an uncanny resemblance to Anti-Schnozmo - brushed his weird cow. The thing that made it so strange was that it had four extra legs growing out of its back and sides.

His brother, Jack - looking very much like Anti-Cosmo - was not amused. "I don't see why you care so much for that...thing."

"Octavia's my girl," Wilson answered happily. "Plus, she's the only thing that we can make any real money off of, right now."

Jack scoffed. "If you want to make money off of it, then sell it to the circus. They pay big for mutants." He eyeballed the mutant with disgust. "Plus, those extra apendages freak me out." A bat flew by. Octavia fired her laser-eyes at it, caught with a frog-like tongue, and swallowed the bat whole. She moo-ed, as Jack stared in horror. "Officially freaked out. Now."

Wilson looked from his brother to his mutant. "I don't know..."

"Come on, brother. Let me take her to circus. We'll make more than enough money to buy more super-seeds."

"Hm..." Wilson raised an eyebrow. "You promise to make sure Octavia's new owner is good to her?"

Jack smiled and crossed his fingers behind his back. "You have my word."

* * *

 _"I'd totally buy that cow! Wouldn't you guys?"_

Brenda glared at her twin. "Bryson, you're interrupting your own story."

"Seriously!" Foop face-palmed. "Read the story or don't. I honestly don't care at this point."

Bryson smiled sheepishly. "Heh. Sorry. Where was I?"

* * *

 _"The next day, Jack brought Octavia to the traveling circus that was in town. Unfortunately, the ringmaster said that he couldn't afford to keep the mutant cow. Annoyed, Jack poofed snakes into the ringmaster's pants and left him to his pain."_

"Gah! This is hopeless!" Jack groaned as he and the cow left the circus. "Where am I going to find someone willing to take..." he looked at the cow, "whatever you are!?" Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned around. There was somewhat shady looking girl - Anti-Blonda - behind him, giving him a look that was somwhere between a smile and a smirk. "Can I help you, miss?"

The girl nodded at Octavia. "You willin' to part with that thing? 'Cause I could pay somethin' fierce for it."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

The girl clicked her tongue, pulled some seeds out of her pocket, and tossed one on the ground. Instantly, a bush grew from the seed. More specifically, a bush that had _money_ growing out of it.

As Jack stared in astonishment, she casually picked some twenties off the bush and asked, "How's two hundred bucks sound?"

Jack shook his head clear and pointed to the bush. "You- It- _How_?"

The girl laughed. "It's just some old money bush seeds I had laying around."

"I, uh... H-How about this: I'll give you the cow, if you give me some of those seeds?"

"You want money seeds, huh?" She smirked and reached into a _different_ pocket. She pulled out some seeds, grabbed Jack's hand, and put the seeds in it.

Jack grinned and put the 'money' seeds in his pocket. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, no," she said. "Thank _you_." She carressed the cow's side. "I could make some serious stuff happen with this freak."

Jack poofed away, and Octavia vicsiously bit the con artist's head, the entire head now in the cow's mouth. The con artist struggled in vain to escape.

* * *

" _Money_ seeds?" Wilson asked doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

Jack eagerly spread the seeds out in their garden. "I saw it with my own eyes, dear brother. Soon enough, we'll have more money than we'll know what to do with."

Wilson still wasn't buying it (no pun intended). "Well, I think you've been scammed, but okay. Anywho, I'll be out of town for a while, taking care of our sick mom. You sure you don't wanna come?" The answer was all over Jack's face. "Okay then. I'll leave you to your wishful thinking."

He poofed away, and Jack rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Wishful thinking is for fairies and genies."

* * *

The next morning, Jack woke up, wondering why it was so dark outside. He shrugged off his confusion, reasoning that it was probably just the weather, and went to check on his money bush.

He couldn't believe what he'd found in its place.

Apparently, it wasn't overcast out. The darkness was from being in the shadow of the corn stalk. The _huge_ plant was about ten times the thickness of a tree and seemed to stretch into the clouds.

"Wow," Jack said in awe. "That's a lot of corn."

* * *

"Anyone else getting hungry?" Bryson asked. Foop and Brenda just glared at him. "What? Reading about corn in making me hungry." Foop grudgingly raised his bottle and poofed a bowl of popcorn next to the male Xye, who grinned. "Popcorn! How appropriate!"

"I thought it would be," Foop growled, sick of all the interruptions.

Bryson grabbed a fistful of popcorn and happily stuffed it in his mouth. His friend and sister waited impatiently as he chewed and were relieved when he swallowed. He opened his mouth.

And, stuffed more popcorn in it.

" _Argh_!" Foop yelled in frustration. He snatched the book from the Xye. "That's it! You've just lost your reading privlages!"

Bryson blinked in shock. "Yeesh, man. I only made one interruption."

 _One_ interruption? Foop's face contorted with rage, and he growled loudly. He raised the book to hit Bryson with it, but Brenda grabbed it from him.

"Maybe I'll just finish the story," she said calmly. "'Needless to say, Jack was curious how far up the corn stalk grew.'"

Bryson guiltily rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry for...whatever I did wrong."

Foop flew in his face. "One more interruption out of you, and I nail your butt to the toilet!"

Brenda face-palmed and continued reading.

* * *

 _"Jack climbed up the corn stalk, finding many interesting things along the way, such as a Phoenix, a school of flying fish, and a...giant floating baby head? Seriously?"_

Panting with exhaustion, Jack finally reached the top. He stared in awe at the scene he'd found himself in. It was a _huge_ vegitable garden. Meaning, the crops were size of cars, and the farm was ten times the size of a two-story house. Forgetting his exhaustion, Jack wondered the field, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

" _Fee fi fo fum_!"

A loud, booming voice broke him from his daze. He whipped around to see an enormous boot stopping just shy of crushing him. Terror hardened in his stomach, as he looked up to see a humugous man - some might say, a giant - before him.

"I smell the blood of an English anti-man!" the giant, who looked and sounded a lot like Jorgen Von Strangle, bellowed. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "Of course, it could just be this English muffin that's mysteriously appeared in my pants pocket." He stuffed the English muffin in his mouth.

Jack gulped. "I gotta get out of here!" he squeaked before running.

He heard something oinking nearby, stopped running, and found a vampig digging in the dirt. It didn't seem to notice the giant in the garden. Or, if it did, it didn't seem to care.

The giant smiled at it. "Ah, there is my prized, gold-truffle-finding vampire pig, hard at work."

"Gold truffle?" Jack repeated. The vampig lifted its pudgy face from the dirt, revealing the large, solid-gold mushroom in its mouth.

The giant chuckled. "Good job, as always, little fella. Honestly, I don't know what I would do, if I lost- _What_!?" Jack snatched up the vampig and ran. " _Hey_!"

Jack sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, as the giant stormed after, screaming in anger. After what felt like an eternity, Jack found the cornstalk. He attempted to climb down it, discovering how difficult that was to do while carrying a creature that was almost as big as he was.

"Give me back my vampig, English anti-man!" the giant boomed.

Feigning bravery, Jack called out, "Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!"

"That is a different fairy tale."

"Do I look like someone who ca- _ares_!"

Out of nowhere, the cornstalk came tubbling down, and Jack screamed as he, clinging for dear life to the stalk, found himself falling from a dangerous height. The vampig squealed in terror, and the giant cried out in distress, knowing that there was no longer a way to get back his vampig.

When the cornstalk eventually crashed to the ground, Jack was certain he was dead. Fortunately, it seemed that the stalk had taken the brunt of the impact, and he was miraculously unharmed, albeit terrified.

An official-looking man with a chainsaw casually floated over to him, as though this type of thing was perfectly normal. He handed Jack a document, and Jack glanced down at it. "Had to cut down your crop," the man stated. "The thing was so big, it violated the zoning laws." He poofed - _'zone out!'_ \- away, leaving Jack lying there, still trying to process what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, the vampig had his face buried in the dirt and pulled out a large golden truffle. Jack smiled.

 _"The end."_

* * *

"What!?" Bryson exclaimed in annoyance. " _Another_ lazy ending!? You've gotta be kidding me! I know fairy tales are pretty dull, but I thought _anti_ -fairy tales would be cool!"

Foop and Brenda exchanged knowing looks. Foop poofed earplugs into their ears, and the two of them went to sleep, while Bryson ranted about how much he hated the endings of the three stories.

 **The End**

* * *

 **I don't know about you guys, but I really think I should be getting back to this series. Review!**

 **Allusions...**

 **Fairy Tales: The fairy tale parodied is "Jack and the Beanstalk."**

 _ **Gravity Falls**_ **: Octavia is from one of the "Mabel's Scrapbook" shorts.**

 _ **Phineas and Ferb**_ **: The giant floating baby head is mentioned.**


	10. I'm (Not) in the Band (Part One)

**Summary:** **Foop and his friends form a rock band for their school's talent show, but they must keep it hidden from Anti-Cosmo, whom Foop secretly fears disapproval from.**

 **Wow! How long's it been since I've posted? Sorry, guys. I kinda lost interest for a while, and then I got a job... Oddly, my creative juices started flowing at work. Kinda makes the day go faster if I start imagining things. Who knew?**

 **Anyway, this episode features a canon plot point of the series. Just so you know. ;)**

* * *

 **I'm (Not) in the Band (Part One)**

"Come on, guys!" Bryson called, racing through the empty school hallways. "We're almost there!"

His three friends were significantly _less_ enthusiastic. Anti-Goldie was the first to respond. "Bryson, you said that six times now."

"The playground is that way," Foop drawled, jerking his thumb in the opposite direction but not expecting the Xye-boy to pay attention.

"Brother, where are we even going?" Brenda asked.

Finally Bryson stopped in front of a door and grinned at his friends, showcasing his shark-like teeth. "Okay, so I was just opening random doors - because I'm a creep - when I found something _amazing_."

"If it's worth missing recess over, it _must_ be amazing," Foop deadpanned.

With a dramatic, "Ka- _pow_!" Bryson swung the door open, revealing the band room, which had various instruments strewn haphazardly all over the room. The kids entered the room, and Bryson - still the only excited one - closed the door. "My guess is that the band kids dropped all their instruments during that fire drill we had this morning. No one ever picked them up, so I say," he picked up a flute and play a note on it, "we make musical magic!"

Foop rolled his eyes. Were they seriously missing recess for _this_? "Bryson Diablo, don't take this the wrong way, but you can go to Heck. I'm outta here."

"Ah, come on, Foop," Anti-Goldie chided, grabbing a nearby trombone. "Music's fun." She blew into it.

Bryson sat down at the drum set and raised his drumsticks high. "Join the party, man!"

Unbelievable. He really needed new friends. And...was Brenda actually (badly) playing the _tuba_? Apparently, he also needed a new crush. "Oh, please. What has music ever done for me?"

Brenda shrugged. "Background music for movies?"

"Loud noises that drive your parents insane?" Bryson suggested.

Foop was about to go back to recess, when Anti-Goldie slyly suggested, "Evanescence?"

Foop blinked and picked an electric guitar - what was that doing in the band room? - and said, "Well, I suppose there are worse things we could be doing with our time."

Bryson cocked his head. "What's an Evansen- Even sis-"

Brenda snapped her fingers. "Effervescence."

" _That's_ what it was."

"Evanescence," Anti-Goldie corrected. "It's some Earth-band that Foop likes." She shrugged. "Not really my thing, personally. I'm more into bands like DNCE."

Foop gaped at her. He really, _really_ needed new friends. "DNCE? Those guys who sing about cake at the ocean?"

"Hey, it's no different than you liking Evanescence."

"The difference, Anti-Goldie, is that Evanescence's music is bold and filled with emotion; their lyrics are deep and meaningful. Whereas your little boy band eats cake on the beach like a bunch of weirdos."

"Why are we even talking about this?"

"Who cares?" Bryson tapped his drumsticks together. "Let's blow the roof off this place! Although, if someone says something, we'll probably have to stop."

Foop sighed. So much for recess. "Whatever." He strummed the guitar in his hands.

Something clicked. He strummed again. Something felt...good. Natural, even, like he had been handling guitars his entire life. So, he played. The world blurred around him, and it was just him and his music. Mother of Hades, it felt _good_. After a while, he noticed his friends gaping at him and forced himself to stop.

He glanced at each of them in confusion. "Why are you all staring at me?" He raised one hand and ran it over his face, asking, "Is there something on my face?"

Brenda was the first snap out of it. "Guys, something's wrong with me. My stomach feels funny, my pulse is acting insane, and for some reason I like it."

Foop didn't have time to process what that implied, because Bryson piped up, "Dude, you killed it! You killed it and buried it in the dirt and did the Mexican Hat Dance on it!"

"Bryson's right! I think," Anti-Goldie agreed. "How did you do that?"

...How _did_ he do it? "I don't know. It's the opening riff from one of my favorite songs: _Say You Will_ by Evanescence." He shrugged. "It just felt right."

Brenda sat down at the piano. "Boy, I'm gonna have to start listening to that band. How'd that riff go again? Something like…"

She then proceeded to play the _exact_ riff on the piano. Anti-Goldie joined in on a bass guitar. The boys gawked at them in amazement.

"Whoa!" Foop gasped when they were finished. "Where did you guys learn that?"

Anti-Goldie shrugged. "My dad owns a music store. I like to goof around with the instruments after closing."

"And, as for me," Brenda began, "I got bored one day, so I started teaching myself piano. Before Bryson and I were born, our parents ate this guy name Beethoven and stole his piano. They don't use it, so I thought I'd take a crack at it."

"Wait!" Anti-Goldie flew up in excitement. "Isn't the school having a talent show next month?"

Foop answered, "I think so. Why?"

The triangular toddler grinned. "Guys! I play bass, Foop plays guitar, and if we swap out Brenda's piano for an electric one, we could form a band!"

Foop grinned back and tightened his grip on the guitar. The talent show would be a waste of time, but the way that melody had flowed through him… If a talent show was what it took to feel that again… "Well, I suppose it could be fun."

"Yeah!" Brenda agreed. "Let's do it!"

"Hm…" Bryson hummed as he absent-mindedly started playing a surprisingly good beat on the drums. "I wonder what I should play…"

His friends and sister exchanged looks. "Um, how about drums?" Brenda suggested.

Bryson stopped playing and mulled it over. "Well...I'm more of a triangle-guy...but what the heck? I'll try anything once."

"Then, it's settled." Foop announced. "We'll form a band, win the talent show, become famous, and eventually TAKE OVER THE WORLD! Or, at the very least, become one-hit wonders. I'd be okay with that. We'll meet at my house after school to begin writing our first big hit!"

The door opened and the principle glared at all of them. "Hey, you kids aren't allowed in here!"

Foop returned the look. "And, _you're_ not allowed in this dimension!" He poofed the principle to a dimension full of floating baby heads of various sizes.

* * *

As planned, the four of them met up in Foop's room (five, if you count Foop's pet, Vladimir). Said vampig was currently gnawing on one of Brenda's long pigtails. She yanked it out of his mouth and held it out of his reach, wondering aloud, "Why is that, every time I come over, Vladimir tries to eat my hair? Why not Anti-Goldie's? She's got pigtails too, and we both use the same shampoo."

Anti-Goldie held up her hands. "Hey, leave me out of this."

"Focus, girls," Foop chided. "Now, our first order of business is picking a name for our new band."

"Oh, I got one!" Anti-Goldie announced. "How about The Beat-Alls? 'Cause, we'll _beat them all_ at the talent show."

Foop narrowed his violet eyes. "Super lame. Moving on!"

Brenda suggested, "What about Brenda and the Holograms?"

"Possibly…"

"Oh, oh, I got one!" Bryson exclaimed. "The Winx Club!"

"What. Does that even _mean_?"

"Sorry. You put me on the spot, and I panicked."

Foop groaned. "This shouldn't be so hard! All we need is something short, catchy, and easy to remember. Something that says we're a group of misfits who formed a band and just want to control the earth and enslave the human race!"

Bryson raised his hand. "Actually, my and Brenda's species wants to _devour_ the human race. And, other races."

Anti-Goldie scooted frightfully away from him. "I thought Xye couldn't eat meat until adulthood."

"That used to be the case," Brenda corrected, "but Xye evolved so that they can safely eat meat the very moment they're born. Bryson and I just choose not to eat people. Draws a lot of unwanted attention."

Foop was only half-listening, because suddenly the name popped into his head. "That's it! We'll call ourselves...Brangelina! No, that's stupid. Wait, I've got it! We're The Misfits!"

"That's perfect, Foop!" Brenda commented.

"Yeah!" Bryson agreed. "'Cause we're all weirdos in a land full of weirdos!"

Anti-Goldie crossed her arms. "I still like The Beat-Alls, but I guess I'm out-voted."

"Okay, we have a name," Bryson said. "Now, we just have to write a song. Does anyone know how to do that?" The others shrugged.

* * *

So, they decided to ask the smartest person they knew, and Foop was glad to be the one to do so. "Father, Father, guess what!" He excitedly flew up to his father, who had just returned home from a meeting. "I have musical talent! I play the guitar as though I have been for years! Which is odd, because I'm only three and a half."

Anti-Cosmo eyed his son skeptically. The boy did seem rather excited, but at his age, "playing" an instrument could just as easily mean strumming random cords. Then again, he was rather bright for his age. Anti-Cosmo poofed his son an acoustic guitar. "Prove it. Play me something. Anything at all."

To his pleasant surprise, Foop played a lovely tune on the guitar and seemed very relaxed and happy while doing it. Anti-Cosmo's heart swelled with pride at his new-found prodigy.

"My badness," he breathed. Foop stopped and smiled at him. Anti-Cosmo clapped. "Bravo, child! Bravo, indeed! Oh, this is so exciting! I've always been such a lover of the arts! Who knew my own flesh and blood was a prodigy in it?"

Foop tried to pretend his face wasn't darkening at the praise. "Oh, it's just one instrument."

"Music is music, Foop. And, you seem to have quite an ear for it. I mean, as long as you don't waste your talents on something frivolous like, oh, rock and roll or something."

Foop's pulse paused. "Uh, frivolous, you say?"

"Well, sure. Personally, I never saw the appeal. It's just a bunch of tone-deaf ninnies wasting their time on loud noises, tattoos, and hot pants."

Crud. Now, what was Foop supposed to do? Obviously, he couldn't tell his father about the band, but… "I...I couldn't agree more. I am far too mature for that utter nonsense."

Anti-Cosmo patted his head. "I'm glad you see things my way, son."

But, of course, Foop's band-mates just _had_ to pick now to enter the room. "Did you ask him, yet?" Bryson asked.

"Ask me what?" Anti-Cosmo wondered. "And, what are you kids doing here?"

Anti-Goldie started, "Well, we started a ba-"

And, was interrupted by Foop covering her mouth with his hand. He hoped the casual smile he gave his father actually _looked_ casual. "Oh, I was just showing off my new-found talent to my friends." He whispered to them, " _Play along_." Then, a sudden wet sensation had him recoiling in disgust. "Ew! Hand-licker!" He pointed to a smug Anti-Goldie. "You are a dirty hand-licker!"

Brenda coughed into her fist to break the awkward silence that followed. "Anyway...we wanted to help Foop write a song, but we don't know how to do that."

"Well, I'm afraid I wouldn't know much about that," Anti-Cosmo told them. "If I were you, I'd just Google it."

"Okay, we'll do that," Foop said, eager to get away from his father and explain the situation to his band-mates.

Anti-Cosmo smiled. "Bad luck, my little prodigy. Oh, I just love the way that sounds!"

"Aheh. Thanks, Father," Foop said, ushering his friends out of the room. Once they were out of earshot, he told them, "Guys, we can _not_ tell my dad about our band. In my excitement, I forgot how much he hates everything that our generation likes."

"Since when do you care what your dad thinks?" Anti-Goldie asked.

It was a valid question, Foop begrudgingly realized. But, there was no way in Heck that he was going to admit to how much he looked up to his father. "I- That-That's irrelevant! The point is, for the sake of The Misfits, we cannot under _any_ circumstances, tell my father about our band. It's probably good idea to keep the talent show under wraps as well, alright?" They didn't looked convinced. In fact, they almost looked...worried. Like they suspected how deeply Foop was hurt by what his father had said. "Let me phrase that another way; either keep the band _and_ the talent show a secret from my father...OR EAT HOT, MOLTEN DEATH!"

 _That_ got them to agree.

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Yeah, in my head-canon, Foop cares about his family and looks up to his dad. We don't really know what his relationship with his parents is, so technically it's not OOC. On a side note, why have we not seen Foop's parents since he was born? Seriously, _why_?**

 **Anyway...you have two options. Option 1) Review this story. Option 2) DEATH! PAINFUL, FIERY DEATH!**


	11. I'm (Not) in the Band (Part Two)

**Summary: Foop and his friends form a rock band for their school's talent show, but they must keep it hidden from Anti-Cosmo, whom Foop secretly fears disapproval from.**

 **Hey, I'm not dead! I lost interest for a while, but I'm back with part two of this episode. I should really get back into this series.**

* * *

 **I'm (Not) in the Band (Part Two)**

The kids returned to Foop's room to make their first attempt at writing a song. Foop had his chin resting in his hands, elbows propped on the windowsill, gazing out the window. Brenda was pacing. Anti-Goldie was sitting against the wall, leaning her head back on it. And, Bryson was sitting on Foop's coffin, his legs dangling off the edge.

Bryson blew out a sigh. "So…"

"...Music," Anti-Goldie blurted thoughtfully.

Brenda stopped pacing. "Guys, I don't think randomly blurting out stuff is gonna give us a song."

Anti-Goldie shrugged. "It could work. Why don't we just say the first words that pop into our heads and see if we can make something out of that?"

Bryson clapped his hands and grinned. "Artichokes!" The girls just stared at him. He frowned. "What? That was the first word that popped into my head."

"Artichokes?" Anti-Goldie repeated in confusion. "Really?"

Brenda would have rolled her eyes if she had pupils. "Girl, I learned a _long_ time ago not to question his thought processes." She thought for a moment. "We could write a song about choking people."

Anti-Goldie nodded. "We could, we could…"

"Bratwurst!" Bryson exclaimed.

Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Brother, are you hungry, by any chance?"

" _So_ hungry!" He looked over at Foop, who hadn't moved from his place by the window. "Hey, Foop? Ya got any snacks? I got a real craving for a Mexican donut."

Anti-Goldie blinked, trying (and failing) to make sense of the male Xye. "You mean a churro?"

"What's a churro?"

Foop hadn't heard a word his friends had been saying. Try as he might, he simply could _not_ get his father's words out of his mind. Sure, some rockers went overboard on...everything, but Foop was better than that. But, would his father feel the same? Would he be disappointed or look down on him? Foop swallowed hard at the thought.

Brenda's voice brought him back to the present. Now standing beside him, she said, "You're awful quiet, Foop."

Thinking quick, Foop lied, "Oh, I'm just looking for inspiration in the beauty of nature." Outside, lightning crashed in the blood-red sky. A large bat flew by, only to be swallowed whole by an even bigger creature with huge claws and several rows of sharp teeth. "Sadly, even this beautiful weather isn't giving me any ideas."

"Kumquats!"

Foop groaned. " _Ugh_! Will someone get this guy some food, already?" The knock at the door only irritated him more. "No one wants you! Go away!"

Amused, Anti-Cosmo opened the door, his wife grinning behind him. "Now, is that any way to speak to people who brought snacks?"

Anti-Wanda poofed up a plate of savory treats. "I made mini bagel pizzas! One of them's half eaten, 'cause I sorta ate half of it. I also ate four others. And, part of a chair. I was _really_ hungry."

"FOOD!" Fast as lightning, Bryson breezed past Anti-Wanda, grabbing the tray and staring at the bagel pizzas eagerly. "Thanks, Foop's mom. If I had to go one more hour without eating, I was gonna eat everyone in this room! That's not an exaggeration. I was seriously this close to eating all of you." He popped a bagel pizza into his mouth.

While everyone else just stared at Bryson, Anti-Wanda piped up, "I wanna hear the song! When can I hear the song?"

Foop narrowed his eyes at her. "We don't _have_ a song, you insignificant _toad_!"

She frowned, and Anti-Cosmo glared daggers. "That is _not_ how you speak to your mother."

Hot shame covered his face whether he wanted it to or not. "Uh, right. My apologies, Mother. I'm just very frustrated, right now."

His mother smiled. "It's okay, sweetie. You get lashing out from your daddy."

"It's true," Anti-Cosmo confirmed. "I tend to do that. So, why the frustration, son?"

"Because, Father," Foop answered, forcing himself not to yell again, "none of us can think of anything to write about."

Mouth full of the last bagel pizza, Bryson said, "I still like my idea."

"No one wants to hear a song about _Courage the Cowardly Dog_!"

To everyone's surprise, Anti-Cosmo commented. "I do." They all stared at him, and he shrugged. "What? It was a good show. Anyway, perhaps we'll leave you kids to your work. My little _prodigy_ ," he added with a wink at his son. "Oh, I just don't get tired of saying that!" He poofed away.

Anti-Wanda smiled at her son. "You've really made him proud, sweetie."

Foop deadpanned, "I know what I've done."

"He's so excited to hear your song! And, so am I! Acoustics is the best music!" She poofed away.

Foop breathed deeply, struggling with not screaming in frustration. Even his dimwitted mother wanted something he wasn't going to provide. "Hey, guys," he said, an idea forming. "Perhaps, we could write two songs. A rock song for the talent show, and an acoustic one for my parents."

"I thought you didn't care about their opinions," Anti-Goldie asked suspiciously.

Foop thought over what he'd requested and mentally smacked himself. "I-I don't! I just, um...um… Nonspecific excuse!"

Brenda walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Dude, if we're really starting a band, then your parents are gonna find out about it sooner or later."

"I choose later! I know for a fact that neither are fans of rock and roll and that my father will probably kick me out of the house or something. I'm simply worried about displeasing him and making him hate or something, alright?"

Anti-Goldie raised an eyebrow. "Dude, do you realize you just bared your soul to us?"

Foop stammered as he realized that she was right. What was wrong with him today? "Uh-uh-I- Oh, let's just write a stupid song, already!"

After licking the crumbs off the plate, Bryson asked, "Can we write about how awesome these mini bagel pizzas are?"

"You haven't been paying any attention to us, have you?" Anti-Goldie asked, annoyed.

"Nope!" He slurped up the remaining crumbs.

Foop sighed. He had an idea for a song, but he kind of hated it. Then again, he'd already bared his soul to his friends (except maybe Bryson, who hadn't seemed to hear a word they'd said). They probably wouldn't be too surprised.

* * *

It was the day of the talent show, and the school auditorium was filled to the brim. Currently, Sammy Sweetsparkle was trying to juggle, but really all he was doing was constantly picking up the balls he was failing to catch. Good. There was absolutely no real competition.

Foop was distracted from his musings by the sound of Anti-Goldie panicking. "Oh, I'm so nervous! I've never been on stage before! What if I freeze up? What if I _throw_ up? Does this dress make my butt look big? And, where the heck is Waldo!?"

Bryson hugged her far too tightly. "Relax, girl! We got this."

"Personally, I'd be more concerned about Foop," Brenda commented.

Foop started at her worried tone. "I beg your pardon?"

Brenda pulled the music sheet out of her pocket. "These lyrics, man. Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

Heck, _no_. "Of course, I am. Those lyrics aren't even about me! They're about...not me!"

Bryson released Anti-Goldie, who started gasping for breath, and held his arms out to Foop. "Do you need a hug, too?"

Foop glared at him. "If you touch me, you _die_."

"Whoa!" Bryson held up his hands defensively. "Normally, you're just passive-aggressive when I offer you a hug."

Foop was about to retort (possibly with words that would give his father a heart attack), when Ms. Powers announced, "Let's give a big hand to Sammy Sweetsparkle, and let's all hope he recovers from the concussion he gave himself…" The audience cheered, apparently deciding to ignore that last part.

Meanwhile, in the audience, Anti-Cosmo was impatiently checking his watch. "Ugh. Why hasn't Foop gone on, yet? All we've seen is a bunch of idiots nearly getting themselves killed by talent they don't have."

Anti-Wanda, who was sitting next to him, shrugged. "Maybe they're saving the best for last?"

Anti-Cosmo considered this. "Yes, I suppose that's possible."

"And, last, but certainly not least," Ms. Powers called out, "we have four students performing an original song!"

"Ooh, this is it!" Anti-Cosmo leaned forward in anticipation, and his wife did the same.

"Put your hands together for Brenda and Bryson Diablo, Anti-Goldie Anti-Goldenglow, and Anti-Poof Anti-Cosma!"

As the audience cheered and Anti-Goldie poofed up their instruments, Bryson asked, "Your name is Anti-Poof?"

"Legally, yes," Foop responded. "Now let's blow the roof off this place!"

The kids took up their positions with their respective instruments - with Foop at the microphone, since they all agreed that he was the only one of them who could even kind of sing.

 **(This song is a parody of** _ **Numb**_ **by Linkin' Park.)**

 _Tired of trying to be what you want._

 _Feeling so worthless, do I really deserve this?_

 _Don't know why you are ruining my fun._

 _Put under the pressure of trying to please you._

 _Is everything that I do just another mistake to you?_

 _I am just so done, and, you don't even care!_

 _I've become so tired, so much more aware_

 _Of becoming this! All I want to do_

 _Is be more like me and be less like you!_

Anti-Cosmo watched and listened to the performance, both confused and intrigued. Now that he thought about, Foop never did say what sort of music he was interested in. Anti-Cosmo had merely assumed it would be acoustics. His son never struck him as a lover of - _ugh_ \- rock and roll. Well, so be it. If that was what Foop liked, then who was Anti-Cosmo to stop him? The odds of the boy making it big were rather slim, especially at his age, but there was no harm in him having a little fun with his friends.

Wait… Anti-Cosmo paid close attention to the lyrics. There was no way those lyrics were just some rhymes the kids randomly thought up. There was something deeper there. But, what? Who among the four of them wrote that song?

His question was answered when Foop locked eyes with him. A look of utter horror overtook the boy's once-euphoric expression, and he squeaked out, "Father?" His friends stopped playing their instruments. The room grew silent, and everyone turned to look at Anti-Cosmo, who was processing the situation.

Oh.

... _Oh_ …

The song was about _him_.

Foop dropped his guitar and ran off the stage. Anti-Goldie awkwardly stepped up to the microphone and tapped on it a few times to get the crowd's attention. She cleared her throat. "Um…there's been a change of plans. Foop's very...emotional…" Angry screams and loud smashing-sounds came from backstage. "And, very violent. So, um, while we calm him down… Er, please enjoy...Bryson...singing various songs of the Public Domain."

The girls ran backstage, and Bryson walked up to the microphone. He cleared his throat and began singing as he shook his hips and waved his hands side to side in an attempt at a cute dance. " _Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care! Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care!_ " He stopped dancing and frowned. "Why did I sing that? Now, I'm hungry again!"

* * *

Brenda and Anti-Goldie found Foop backstage, repeatedly smashing a new guitar (he must have poofed it up) to the ground and screaming, "I CAN'T TAKE IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT! I CAN'T TAKE IT!"

When he threw the remainder of the guitar to the ground and just floated there, panting, Anti-Goldie tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, and she simply could not resist asking, "Hey, just checking; can you take it?"

She quickly realized her mistake, when her friend's blue face turned purple. "I WILL BURN YOU IN THE FIERY PITS OF HADES!" Brenda slapped him the face. He blinked. "Do that again." She did so. He rubbed his stinging cheek. "Thanks. I needed that."

"What's wrong, Foop?" Anti-Goldie asked once she was certain he wouldn't maim her. "I thought we were doing pretty good."

Ignoring the question, Foop glared accusingly at them. "What is my _father_ doing here?"

Anti-Goldie raised her hands defensively. "Don't look at me, man. I didn't tell him anything."

"Me neither," Brenda confirmed.

"Uh…" Bryson drawled, staring at them guiltily from around the corner. "You said not to tell your _dad_ , so I kinda told your mom. Should I not have done that?" Foop started turning purple again. Bryson swallowed hard. "I think I'll go sing more Public Domain songs." As he returned to the stage, they heard him singing, " _London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down…_ "

Foop slowly let out a breath. Hiding his own fear and despair was getting harder. He briefly wondered if throwing Bryson into a vat of acid would make him feel better. No, then he would just lose one of the few friends he had.

"Foop," Brenda's gravelly voice brought him back to the present, "it doesn't matter what your dad thinks. You should just focus on being you."

"Don't you think I'm _trying_?" Foop lamented. Because, his gosh-darn emotions were getting the better of him. Curse his three-year-old mindset! "I'm trying _so hard_ to be me, but being _me_ isn't cutting it! I mean, think about it! I come up with evil schemes, I cause bad luck throughout the universe, I drink hot tea even though I prefer iced! I do things my father does so that I can be like him. He's the feared but respected leader of Anti-Fairy World. And, what I am? I'm just some kid who's lucky enough to be related to him. Do you have any idea how hard it is, trying to live up that hype?

Meanwhile, I've something that's _mine_. Something that makes _me_ happy. But, it's something that my father detests! I can't share it with him because, _I'll lose it if he isn't proud of me!"_ He panted and pressed his hand against his heart, as if that would stop his heart from beating out of his chest. "Oh, man… Oh, I'm so glad I got that off my chest."

"Wow…" Foop's heart pounded even harder at the sound of the familiar voice behind him. His father was floating there, completely and utterly stunned. "That, um, wow."

While Foop blanched, Anti-Goldie coughed into her fist. "Well, I just remembered, I need to go...iron my shoes." She poofed - _awkward!_ \- away.

As Brenda slowly backed away, she drawled, "And, I...don't exist."

The father and son were left alone. Both were silent until the former cleared his throat, rather unsure of how to deal with the current situation. "I...I thought that, um, that you and your friends were quite good-"

Foop raised a silencing hand. "Don't bother with pleasantries, Father. I know you hated it."

Anti-Cosmo flinched at his son's defeated tone. "I-I never said-"

"I know you hate rock and roll, and I know you were you expecting something far different. But-But-But, I'm not _you_ , Father! I'm not as smart or sophisticated as you! I'm bad at math. I can't understand half the big words you use. And, when I'm drinking fizzy beverages, _sometimes_ I like to burp the alphabet! Just to show that I can!"

"Foop-"

" _Please_ , don't interupt me, when I'm ranting!" At this point, yelling was all Foop could do to keep himself from crying. "You're better than me at _everything_! And-And, I just want to be as awesome as you, but-"

" _That's enough_." Foop clamped his mouth shut. Shutting up was the only thing he could do when his father used his authority-figure voice. Arms crossed, green eyes narrowed dangerously at purple ones, Anti-Cosmo wouldn't listen to another word of such nonsense. "You are right about thing, young man; I _am_ disappointed in you."

Foop choked back fresh tears. "You...You are?"

"Of course I am! I mean, really? How could you think me to be so cold to my own flesh and blood?"

 _What?_ Foop stared at his father in shock.

"Of course, we're different, you twit! It is biologically impossible for two anti-fairies to be exactly alike. And, anyway, while I'm better than you at some things, you tend to best me at other things." He then added with a small smile, "Namely music, it seems."

Foop processed what his father was saying. "So...you're okay with me being in a rock band?"

Anti-Cosmo smiled wider. "Indeed, son."

Foop released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thanks, Father. That means world, coming from you. But, don't tell anyone I said that."

Anti-Cosmo chuckled then said shyly, "You know, I hadn't realized you'd put me on such a high pedestal."

Foop blushed. "Well, uh, I-I- _Argh_! If you tell anyone I have feelings, I'll melt you in the depths of Heck!"

His father laughed. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone about what a softie you are."

"I am not soft!"

Suddenly, Foop's friends ran up to him excitedly. Bryson called out, "Foop! A bunch of kids want _us_ to play at their birthday parties!"

"And, some of the grown-ups want us to play at their grown-up parties!" Anti-Goldie exclaimed. "I've always wanted to know what happens at grown-up parties!"

Foop grinned. "This is _amazing_! The Bassinets are going to be famous!"

Bryson frowned. "I thought we were the Misfits."

Brenda put a hand on her hip. "Oh, we changed it, while you were in the bathroom, throwing up mini bagel pizzas."

"I guess that's what I get for not sharing."

Anti-Cosmo beamed. "Well, I'm proud of you kids. And, you know, if you're going to get gigs, you're going to need a manager, don't you think?"

Foop gaped at him. "Are-Are you offering to _be_ that manager?"

"Only if you'll have me."

Foop couldn't help hugging his father. (He blamed his mother's DNA.) "We'll totally have you!"

Bryson bounced on his feet in excitement. "Ooh, this calls for one more song!" He cleared his throat and started singing at the top of his lungs.

 **(This song is to the tune of** _ **Take Me Out to the Ballgame**_ **.)**

 _Take me out to the swamp, and_

 _Hold my head underwater!_

 _Make me come back from the dead and haunt you!_

 _I'll make you wish you never were born, 'cause you'll_

 _Die, die, die worse than I did!_

 _You'll rot from your toes to your brain!_

 _And, this song is allowed on this site,_

' _Cause it's Public Domain!_

After a moment of stunned silence, Anti-Cosmo awkwardly commented, "I'm pretty sure that's not how the song goes…"

 **The End**

* * *

 **Does anyone remember the FoP episode, "Anti-Poof," when Fairy Hart referred to Foop as the "bad boy of the bassinets?" Now, you know where the band's name came from! Review, everyone!**


	12. Wreck the Halls

**Summary: (Christmas Special) Foop accidentally injures Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, so he and his parents must deliver the presents themselves.**

 **I have a Christmas special for all of you! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Wreck the Halls**

"Thanks again for getting me the death ray I wanted, guys!" Foop said, cradling his new weapon as though it were the most precious thing in the world.

It was Christmas Eve, but no anti-fairies cared about that. They, as a species, celebrated Hanukkah, and that night was the night after the eight days had passed. As per tradition, Foop received eight presents, but his favorite was definitely the ray gun he held in his small hands.

"Aw, you have fun with it, sweetie," his mother gushed. "Happy night after Hanukkah! And, merry Christmas Eve! Even though anti-fairies don't celebrate Christmas."

"Enjoy your new toy, son. But, be careful," Anti-Cosmo warned. "That thing can cause a killing blow with just one hit."

Foop waved off the reminder. "Father, you worry too much. I'll be _super_ careful to only aim it at our greatest of enemies. Like Timmy Turner or Chloe Carmichael or Stanford Pines."

"Don't kill Stanford," Anti-Wanda requested. "That feller still owes me money. As for Timmy and Chloe, I don't care what ya do."

Anti-Cosmo grinned suggestively and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "Now, your mother and I need to do something of utmost importance in our room." Anti-Wanda returned the grin. "Do _not_ disturb us unless it's life or death. Got it?"

Completely oblivious, Foop gave a mock salute. "You got it, Father. You two go ahead and do whatever it is you're talking about. If you need me, don't! I'll be enjoying my Hanukkah presents." With that, he poofed himself on to the roof of the castle and breathed in the rank night air. He exhaled with a relaxed smile. "I couldn't have asked for a more beautiful night to terrorize the innocent. Only one thing could make this better." He raised his bottle, making his pet vampig appear beside him. "Good evening, Vladimir. I see you're still wearing the scarf I gave you for Hanukkah." Vladimir, a an indigo scarf wrapped around his fat neck, oinked happily. "And, now I have an audience for my destruction. Watch and learn, Vladimir." Foop peered through the scope on his death ray, wondering what he should destroy first.

"Ho ho ho!"

Foop turned his death ray's scope in the direction of the hearty laugh. He smiled. "Oh, look, Vladimir! Santa Claus is making his yearly round. Check it out!" He held the scope down for his pet to peer through. "How many people can say that they saw Santa flying through the sky on Christmas Eve?" He held back up the scope and looked at Santa through it once more. "Even if we don't celebrate Christmas, you have to admit that's pretty cool. I'm gonna try to zoom in a little."

Foop pursed his lips in thought, wondering which button would zoom in the lense. Unfortunately, in his search he accidentally squeezed the trigger on the gun. He shrieked in surprise and horror as it fired.

In Santa's direction.

"Ho ho-" Santa glanced up at the approaching beam and shrank back in shock. " _Oh no_!"

Mortified beyond words, Foop covered his eyes as an agonized scream tore at his pointed ears, punctuated by the cries of eight terrified reindeer. One flew by him, startling him out of the air and on to Vladimir's back. The vampig squealed in surprise and knocked Foop back on to the rooftop. Foop forced himself to look down at Santa who was getting smaller and smaller and...falling out of the sky! Foop screamed and poofed up the softest mattress he could for Santa to land on.

Now close to hyperventilating, he looked frantically around. Fortunately, no one was around to see that except… Foop glared at his pet and snapped, " _You saw nothing_!" before poofing - _PANIC!_ \- himself on the mattress that Santa landed on down on Earth.

Santa didn't appear severely injured, but he was definitely out cold. "Santa?" Foop squeaked. He gingerly grabbed Santa's wrist. And, in that moment, Foop didn't know if he would cry, scream, or throw up. "He's… He's… Oh gosh!"

No pulse. Santa Claus had _no pulse_!

"Oh gosh! Oh my gosh! What have I done?"

" _What_ have _you done, Foop?_ "

Crud. Now, Halo - his second personality - was rearing _his_ ugly head. Foop scowled. "This is all your fault!"

" _Really? I blame you!_ "

"Oh, you would! That's so like you!" Foop blanched as he took another look at the body. He'd always thought that murder would be _fun_. But, this… "What are we gonna do!?"

" _You have to confess, Foop!_ " Halo demanded.

Foop's stomach flipped over at the thought. "Confess? _Confess_? Are you out of our mind!? We just need to come up with an alibi! Uh, I-I was in my room! Playing with my new toys! That's believable, right?" Halo didn't respond, but Foop felt his disappointment and deflated. "Oh, you're right, Halo." He took in a shaky breath. "I-I have to tell someone."

* * *

Foop practically threw open the door to his parents' room. "MOTHER, FATHER, I-" He gaped at the sight before him. His father - who was _not wearing a shirt_ \- had his mother pinned to the bed. Both, of their faces turned a mortified purple at the sight of him. "Uh, what are you guys doing?"

"Nothing!" they piped up at the same time, flying off the bed and poofing themselves back into their normal clothes.

Anti-Wanda looked anywhere but her son. Anti-Cosmo awkwardly cleared his throat. "Foop, I, um, I-I thought that-that I said not to interrupt unless it was life or death."

"It is life or death!" Foop exclaimed. "Mostly death!"

* * *

Foop was pretty sure that his father's cry of "SWEET MOTHER OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S MOTHER!" would haunt him for the rest of his existence.

The three of them floated over what used to be a beloved Christmas icon...and one of the few beings who _all_ species liked, including anti-fairies.

Anti-Wanda raised an eyebrow at the body. "Wait. Before we pronounce him dead, let me perform the true test." She cracked her knuckles, picked a stick up off the ground, and poked the body with it. Nothing happened. Anti-Wanda screamed, "AAAAHHHHH! HE'S DEAD!"

"That's what I was trying to tell you!" Foop swallowed the lump in his throat, not allowing his guilt to show through.

Anti-Cosmo turned to him with true fear in his eyes - something Foop had never seen before. "Foop, did you see how this happened?"

 _Tell him!_ Halo silently pleaded. _Tell him now!_

"N-No," Foop lied. "I didn't see. Santa was like this when I found him." Halo tried to push his way back into control of their shared body, but Foop pushed back twice as hard. "What are we going to do?"

Anti-Wanda frowned in determination. "I say we find the killer and _rip his bones out right through his skin_!"

Foop swallowed hard.

"Calm yourselves, you two," Anti-Cosmo chided, despite looking like a bomb ready to detonate and take out an entire village. "I don't like this anymore than you do, but we can't do anything about it. Now, look behind you." They all turned around, and Foop flinched at the sight of the destroyed red sleigh and huge sack of toys spilled out all over the snow. "We can't bring Santa back, but we _can_ honor him by finishing his run. As much as it pains me, we must deliver the remaining gifts to the children they belong to."

Anti-Wanda nodded solemnly. "Santa would want that."

Yeah, he would. Foop couldn't bring him back...but he could do that much. Except… "But, Father, how will we know what present goes where?"

Anti-Cosmo hummed in thought and flew over to the pieces of sleigh. He picked up something metal that had been wedged into a bush. He adjusted his monocle and examined it. "Looks like the GPS is still in tact. Folks, we've got a mission."

He raised his wand and reassembled the sleigh. Since they couldn't use the reindeer, he also added a magic engine so that it would fly. He then magicked all the gifts back into the bag and sat it in the back.

" _But, what about Santa?_ " Halo whined.

Anti-Cosmo sighed sadly. "We'll deal with him later. Right now, we have to honor him by finishing his rounds for him."

Foop knew that wasn't what Halo meant. He wanted Foop to tell the truth. Jumping back into control, Foop floated after his parents, who were already seated in the sleigh, his father at the new steering wheel. "Um, guys?"

"Whatever it is can wait, son," Anti-Cosmo said as he started up the engine.

Anti-Wanda wrapped an arm around her son. "Right now, we gotta big ol' job to do!"

Foop shivered from more than the cold. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

It was a little confusing, trying to figure out how the GPS worked and how to get themselves down the chimneys without making a ton of noise, but they eventually got a rhythm going. Halo, of course, had been nagging Foop the entire time. When his parents asked about Foop's distress, he told them that he was shaken by Santa's death. It wasn't a lie. An understatement but not a lie.

"Who's next?" Anti-Cosmo asked.

Anti-Wanda looked at the GPS. "Chloe Carmichael."

Anti-Cosmo scowled. "Ugh. Of course. I wish we were capable of just poofing her presents into her house. Stupid magic gifts." He landed the sleigh on the roof of the Carmichael house.

* * *

Chloe was woken up by a loud noise on the roof. It took her sleepy mind a moment to remember, but a huge grin spread across her face as she realized that it was Christmas Eve. Santa must have been there! She wanted so badly to go and see if that was true, but she knew she wasn't allowed to. She threw her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes, trying to force herself to go back to sleep.

Something smashed downstairs. She bolted upright. Did Santa accidentally break something? She couldn't take it anymore. She hopped out of bed and crept out of her room. She didn't go down the stairs though. As long as she didn't actually _see_ Santa and only listened, then no rules were broken, right?

She heard voices. Three of them. Santa must have brought some elves to help him. One was a woman with a Southern accent, and the other two voices were British men. Santa was British?

Wait… She knew those voices.

Chloe raced downstairs, grateful that her parents hadn't woken up. Despite their heroic natures and survival instincts, those two could have slept through the apocalypse. Chloe gasped at the sight before her then snarled. Three all-too-familiar anti-fairies gaped at her, completely stunned. What were _they_ doing in her house? And, on _Christmas Eve_ , no less?

"Pardon my French," she whisper-shouted, "but what the holy heck is going on!?"

Anti-Cosmo was the first to regain his composure. He cleared his throat. "Young lady, that is a rather...difficult story."

"Ya see, sweetie," Anti-Wanda began solemnly. "Santa Claus is d-"

Anti-Cosmo elbowed her in the ribs. "Out of commission. Santa can't be here right now, so we're lending a hand."

"Of course," Chloe agreed sarcastically. "And, I'm queen of the planet You're-Full-of-Boloney."

Foop sighed. "Chloe, I realized this looks a tad, well, weird out of context. But, you just have to trust us." Chloe inwardly flinched at the sheer sadness that came over the young anti-fairy's face. What _was_ the context? "Foop did something stupid. Something that can never be fixed." Why was Foop referring to himself in the third person? Out of the corner of her eye, Chloe noticed Anti-Cosmo tense up. "He can't change what he's done, but he can at least try to do something good. I imagine a girl as sweet as you can understand that."

Well, yes, she could understand wanting to make up for bad choices. She just wished she understood what Foop was talking about. And, why his father looked ready to burst into flames. But, it seemed that they weren't up to anything bad (except the vase that one of them broke), so she shrugged. "Okay. Um, merry Christmas. I guess."

* * *

Stupid Halo. He'd taken control of their body in stupid Carmichael's house. The lad may as well have flat-out told their parents about what Foop did.

 _I loathe you,_ Foop mentally snarled.

But, Halo was way too smug for Foop's liking. _You'll thank me for that later._

 _No, I don't see that happening._

"That was Halo, correct?" Anti-Cosmo's dangerously calm voice broke through the mental argument, as he leaned against the sleigh, still on the Carmichael's roof.

Foop forced a laugh. "Oh, that split personality of mine. You never what nonsense will pop out of his mouth."

It seemed that, as usual, Anti-Wanda was the only one who had absolutely no idea what was going on. "Yeah, that was pretty darn weird. I think Halo might be missing some marbles. You ain't done nothing, have you, sweetie?"

Foop and Halo fought for dominance.

"Foop," Anti-Cosmo gave his son a hard look, "how did Santa die?"

"He didn't see, remember?" Anti-Wanda reminded.

Foop willed himself to stop shaking and sweating. It didn't work. He swallowed hard and confessed in a small voice, "I...I might know."

"Wait, you did see?" Anti-Wanda's pink eyes glowed with rage. "What happened? I wanna rip the killer's eyeballs out!"

"Alright, I confess," Foop said finally. " _Timmy Turner_ did it! He was playing with a death ray, and he accidentally fired it at Santa!"

Anti-Cosmo stood with his arms crossed, glowering at his son. Still not sure what was going on, Anti-Wanda copied her husband's stance.

Choking back a sob, Foop exclaimed, "Okay, it was me! I was playing with my new death ray and I pulled the trigger and I hit Santa and I lied and-and-" Foop's willpower melted like snow and he collapsed in hysterical sobs. "And, he's _dead_! He's dead! I did i-it! It's my-my fau-ault!"

"Oh, my baby!" Anti-Wanda rushed to her son's side and held him as he wailed.

Anti-Cosmo just stood there in shock at the sight. His son had cried before, but… "Wow, you're crying...really hard…"

And, just when Foop thought he couldn't be anymore guilty or humiliated, he heard Santa's jolly laughter echoing in his head. "Oh, now I hear his stupid laughter!"

The laugh came louder this time accompanied by the sound of bells. Curious, Anti-Wanda held a hand around her ear and listened. "Hark! A Herald Angel sings."

Anti-Cosmo stared up at the sky in awe. "That's no angel…"

Foop wiped his eyes and gazed incredulously at the things flying toward them. Eight reindeer, with someone riding on the one in the front. But, that wasn't possible! He flew out of his mother's grasp. " _Santa_?"

Against all odds, _Santa Claus_ flew down and landed the reindeer on the roof. He hopped off the reindeer he'd been riding. "Thanks so much for helping me deliver the gifts, guys!"

"Santa?" Foop repeated, still convinced that he was going insane. "Like, _Santa_ -Santa?"

"But, that ain't possible!" Anti-Wanda gaped. "When I poked ya with a stick, ya didn't do nothing!"

Santa's smile didn't fade. "Guys, don't you know how Christmas Magic works? I never really 'die.' I just pass out for about an hour. But, I always return to my jolly old self!"

"Santa," Anti-Cosmo said pointedly, "you had _no pulse_."

Now, Santa frowned in confusion. "I didn't? Huh. I wonder if that happens every time."

Foop sighed sadly. "Santa, I… Oh, it hurts me to say this. I'm sorry I hurt you. When I wasn't trying to hurt you." With a heavy heart, he poofed up his death ray and handed it to Santa. "Here. Give this to someone who'll use it the right way: by obliterating their enemies and destroying anyone or anything that gets in their way."

Santa looked at the weapon floating in front of him and smiled, taking it. "That's very responsible of you, Foop. And, I think it benefits pretty much everyone."

"Are you mad that I almost killed you for real?"

"Heavens, no! Accidents happen. It's part of growing up."

Anti-Cosmo deadpanned. "He's still grounded. Just throwing that out there."

"Well, thanks again for all your help tonight." Santa used his own magic to harness the reindeer to the sleigh and seat himself in the sleigh. "Why don't you guys stop by the North Pole later? The elves throw a huge party to celebrate Christmas. Just consider it a show of gratitude."

"It would be an honor, sir," Anti-Wanda answered.

With a jolly cry of "Merry Christmas and, in your case, happy Hanukkah!" his reindeer flew him and his sleigh into the night sky.

Foop turned to his parents. "Boy, did I learn my lesson! Never operate lethal weapons unless you _really_ know what you're doing."

Anti-Cosmo narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Actually, I believe the lesson is 'tell the truth.'"

Foop pursed his lips. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm right."

Anti-Cosmo groaned and turned to his wife. "Anti-Wanda, back me up here."

"I'd love to," Anti-Wanda replied. "But, first, could someone please explain what's going on?"

Anti-Cosmo sighed and shrugged. "Oh, why do I even bother?"

 **The End**

* * *

 **You didn't really think I'd kill off Santa, did you? Also, I call the split personality "Halo," because he seems to be Foop's good half.**

 **Oh, one more thing! I'm going to have a little bit of a crossover. Meaning, I'm putting Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, and Foop into my _Gravity Falls_ fic, "Before the Fall." I encourage you to check it out, but I should warn you that some of it might not make sense if you haven't read the rest of my "Before the Fall" series.**

 **Review and merry Christmas! Or, happy Hanukkah. Whichever the case may be.**


	13. Pacify Her (Part One)

**Summary: A rift forms between Anti-Cosmo and Foop after an argument, causing Foop to run away and end up in the clutches of a fairy hunter.**

 **This was going to only have one part...but then it got _really heavy_! This episode has the most emotional baggage so far, but it will eventually lead into a special episode (like the fanfic version of an hour-long special), so read it!**

 **Btw, this was heavily inspired by the Melanie Martinez song, _Pacify Her_ , hence the title. I was also inspired by the _Star vs the Forces of Evil_ episode, "Bon Bon the Birthday Clown," hence the spell used in this part.**

* * *

 **Pacify Her (Part One)**

There she was again. That Xye girl that Foop was always making goo-goo eyes at. Only now they were holding hands - _holding hands_ \- as he led her to the front door, both of them looking exhausted. Anti-Cosmo lay back on the couch, pretending to read...whatever book he'd poofed up. He didn't really care what it was. He just needed something to fake-read while he peered at the kids over the top of it.

"Why are you holding my hand again?" Brenda asked.

Anti-Cosmo's chest tightened at the blush on his son's face. "Oh, just because…"

Brenda shrugged. "Whatever, man." They stopped at the door. "I had fun today, though. I never knew you could do that properly in a coffin."

Foop smiled suggestively. "Hey, don't let the shape fool you. I can be _pretty_ limber."

The book in Anti-Cosmo's hands started shaking.

Brenda laughed. "Yeah, you can! We should wrestle more often. You're pretty fierce." She arched her back in a stretch. "I think I'm gonna be feeling this tomorrow. Well, see you at school."

Foop waved as she walked out the door. "Bye, Brenda. Tell your brother I said to stop calling me."

"Will do."

She closed the door, and Foop leaned his back against it and sighed happily. "I wrestled Brenda…"

Okay, this was getting weird. Anti-Cosmo closed his book and flew over to his son. "Do I want to know what that implies?"

Foop raised an eyebrow. "Implies? We wrestled. What could that possibly imply?"

Now, it was Anti-Cosmo's turn to blush. "Er, well, nothing, I guess."

"Why do you always get so weird around Brenda and her brother? Don't you like them?"

Yes? No? He didn't know? "They're fine kids, Foop. It's just that their kind is rather, uh, dangerous, you know?"

Foop smiled smugly. "You mean because they devour flesh and are capable of turning other species into Xye? They told me all about that, Father, but I trust them."

That was what Anti-Cosmo was afraid of. "Okay, but how can you be certain-"

"Honey!" Anti-Wanda called from the hallway. "Can you come over here?"

Anti-Cosmo called, "I'm coming." He headed into the hallway to his wife, who seemed surprisingly annoyed. He blinked. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because, you're being unfair," came her angry response.

Well, now. He certainly hadn't been expected _that_. "Erm… How so?"

"Don't you know that our boy's got a thing for Brenda?" Anti-Cosmo tensed. "I understand why you'd be op-op-"

"Opposed?" he offered, still stuck on the idea that his only child may have a "thing" for… No. No, Foop was smarter than that.

Anti-Wanda was oblivious of his thoughts. "I know why you're opposed. Xye eat people and turn people into them. But, that don't mean you get to judge Brenda! Even if she doesn't feel the same for Foop…" She sighed. "You know Foop doesn't have a lot of friends. Brenda's one of them, and I don't want him to lose her." Anti-Cosmo was snapped out of his thoughts by his wife resting a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiling softly at him. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Despite not having heard a thing she'd told him, he gave a coy half-smile. "Now, when have I ever done anything stupid?"

She pursed her dark lips and counted things off on her fingers. "Let's see… There was that time when you tried to pole-vault out of Abracatraz but forgot to measure the stick first and crashed into the wall. And, then there was that time you trusted _me_ with baking them brownies for the bake-off. And, the time you got them tweezers caught in your-"

" _Okay_ ," Anti-Cosmo snapped, "you've made your point."

* * *

The next day, while his son was at school, Anti-Cosmo raced to his private study and poofed his spell book in front of him. He flipped through it until he found the spell he'd been looking for, trying to push back the sheer guilt curdling in his stomach. No one had to know about this, he told himself. He was just protecting his son. He was just being a good parent.

Right?

He breathed deeply in an attempt to relieve the tightness in his chest at the idea that he was actually doing this to Foop. Then, he mentally scolded himself for thinking such a thing. This was a necessary precaution. If Anti-Wanda was right (for once), and Foop _did_ have a crush on the Xye, it was important that he found out and put a stop to it before Foop got hurt. Or worse, killed.

Or even worse... _turned_.

Anti-Cosmo shivered at the thought.

He raised his wand, which began glowing light blue as he recited the spell. "I summon the All-Seeing Eye. To tear a hole into the sky. Reveal to me that which is hidden. Unveil to me what is forbidden."

His wand shot a blue beam into the air that opened into a circle. The image inside showed him what Foop was doing at school. The boy was talking to _her_ again. And, he seemed awfully nervous.

As they sat in the sandbox together, he swallowed and said shyly, "Uh, Brenda?"

"Yeah? What's up?" Brenda asked, scooping up sand in her hands and hurling it at some elf kid. (What was his name? Sam Sparkles or something?)

Foop's blush and nervous smile made Anti-Cosmo grip his wand tighter. "I've been meaning to ask you… Do-Do you like me?"

Anti-Cosmo gasped. Anti-Wanda was right!

Brenda grinned at him. "Are you kidding, man? I freaking love you!"

Foop grinned wider than his father had seen in a long time. "R-R-Really? You do?"

"Yep. And, I love my brother and I love climbing trees and I love mass murder."

Foop deflated significantly. "Uh, yeah, okay. But, do you love me in a _boyfriend_ sort of way?"

Brenda shrugged, smiling in a way that said she had no idea what Foop meant by that. "Sure. And, Bryson's my brother-friend. And, Anti-Goldie's my girl-friend. And- Hey, what's wrong?"

Foop's frown seemed to turn upside-down from willpower alone. "Oh, nothing. You know me and my...crazy, ridiculous thoughts…"

Anti-Cosmo released the spell and the image disappeared, leaving him with nothing but the sound of his own heart simultaneously pounding and breaking.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo tapped his foot as he waited for his son to come through the front door. He mentally went through anything that he could possible say to him, but all of those possibilities ended with Foop being either scared, angry, or both. Then again, some topics had a way of doing that to people.

At last, Foop flew through the door, calling out, "Mother, Father, I'm home from sc- Oh! Hello, Father. Didn't see you there." The boy frowned. "Something wrong? You're wearing your serious-business-face."

This was for the best, Anti-Cosmo told himself as he flew over to his son. Besides, Foop was young. He'd get over it; he'd make new friends. "Foop, I forbid you from being friends with Brenda and Bryson any longer."

Foop's expression was as shocked as Anti-Cosmo expected. "Whoa! Where did that even come from? Seriously, I just got home, and you're already hurling _that_ at me? Why don't you just drop an anvil on my head? Perhaps forbid me from playing the guitar, while you're at it? Heck, one bout of random shock has already passed through my system. Why not one more?"

When the child didn't say anything else, Anti-Cosmo asked, "Are you done?"

"...Yeah, pretty much."

"Now, before you go off yet another little tirade, ponder this. For centuries - perhaps even _millennia_ \- Xye have been known for causing horrors and tragedies beyond your wildest nightmares. They are capable of taking on an army of anti-fairies without breaking a sweat. They hunt and devour anything that breathes," he shivered despite himself, "and take a special joy out of doing so while the victim's...alive." Foop's violet eyes widened at that. Good. He was getting the message. "Not to mention that they are capable of forcibly transforming another species into one of their own."

To his immense surprise, Foop asked, "That's called 'turning,' right?"

Huh. Perhaps the boy knew more than he'd anticipated. "Correct. I'm glad you're making friends, Foop, but Xye are far too dangerous, and I feel it in your best interest to steer clear of the twins from this point forward."

Foop thoughtfully looked at the ground for a moment. Anti-Cosmo smiled slightly. Was the boy actually considering his words?

After a moment, Foop looked up at him, his expression unreadable. "You make a compelling argument, Father. You clearly know a lot about Brenda and Bryson's kind." Then, he smiled. "But, while I respect and am strangely grateful for your warnings, I trust my friends."

Well now… That wasn't at all what Anti-Cosmo had been expecting. Though, he supposed that Foop was too young to truly understand. And, he didn't have any experience with full-grown Xye yet. (As far as he knew, anyway.) "That's what worries me, son. Trusting _Xye_?" Anti-Cosmo didn't realize how much venom was in the word until his son flinched. He didn't particularly care, so long as the message came across. "It's just- I love you, Foop. And, I refuse to let anything...lethal happen to you."

Foop snorted. Like this was _amusing_. "Lethal? The only threat either one of them possesses is Bryson annoying me to death." He frowned. "Hey, how come you didn't say anything when I first befriended them?"

"Because, I hadn't anticipated you falling head-over-wings for the female. It doesn't matter that she rejected you. Or, possibly just didn't understand that you were basically stating that you've fallen for her-"

"How do you know about that?"

Oh, a whole bunch of heck. "Internet?" The moment he said it, he questioned _why_ he said it.

Foop's small hands curled into fists. "No. You wouldn't know about that unless you _saw it happen_."

"Oh, perish the thought. This isn't about me."

"You were _spying on me_ , weren't you?"

"I wasn't spying, dear boy. I was merely...looking out for you from a distance."

Hurt and anger flashed across Foop's face. "I can't believe you! I can't believe you don't trust me!"

"It's not you I don't trust," Anti-Cosmo assured. "It's those accursed twins."

"They're my best friends! If you insult them, you insult me. And, no one insults me but _me_! Wait, what? Oh, you know what I mean!"

"Your frustration is understandable, but I'm only trying to do what's best for you."

Foop gaped and did something between a scoff and a squeak. "What's best for me? _You_ are trying to do what's _best_ _for me_? Since when do you do what's best for me?"

Okay, now he had his father's attention. "Foop, you don't understand what I've been through."

Foop's face turned purple with rage. "No! No! _You_ don't understand what _I've_ been through! I was repeatedly mauled by a bear. I was incinerated at my own school play. You think _you've_ got problems? I worked with _Vicky_ , man! If you think Xye are dangerous, try being stuck in a room with _her_! My entire existence is filled with horror and searing agony. I've become the butt-monkey of _The Fairly OddParents_! And, you don't even care. Now, admittedly, I do admire you as a person and an evil overlord, but you're a terrible father!"

A sudden sharp pain jabbed at Anti-Cosmo's chest. He opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was a tiny squeak.

Complete and utter shame came over Foop's once angry expression. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean that! I just- I- _Argh_!" With that, he poofed away in a cloud of black smoke.

Anti-Cosmo just floated there in shock, his mind working a mile a second to force his son's words to sink in. Foop didn't mean that; he couldn't have. He was upset and confused. Lashing out was understandable, right?

Right.

...Right?

A firm tapping on his shoulder pulled him from his fears and made turn around...only to double his fears when he saw who was glaring at him with her arms crossed.

"You...saw all that, didn't you?" he asked.

Anti-Wanda sighed. "You know I hate picking sides, Anti-Cosmo, but Foop has a point. You haven't exactly been around when he needed you."

"You are an exterminator in _Anti-Fairy World_ ," her husband pointed out. "One could argue that you're just as busy as I."

"And, despite that, I'm usually there for him. I patched him up every time he was mauled by a bear. When he was Vicky's Scary GodParent, I binge-watched _Sleazy and Cheezy_ with him to make him feel better. And, as for his school play… Well, I had the Fairy Flu that day, so I couldn't attend." She fixed him with a withering look. "What's _your_ excuse?"

Despite being the less intelligent spouse (except in rare cases like this one), she always knew how to corner him. "I was...busy," he said in a small voice.

"Too busy for your own flesh and blood?"

And, just like that, Anti-Cosmo felt like _he_ was incompetent one. Mostly because she was entirely right. He let out a guilty sigh. "How exactly are you the opposite of Wanda?"

Just then, a small buzz flew by his ear. Anti-Wanda grinned. "Oh! A fly!" She poofed up a fly swatter. "I'll get it!" She flew after it, breaking things as she attempted to kill the fly, unintentionally reminding her husband of the difference between her and her fairy counterpart.

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **I warned you that this was heavy! It will only get heavier! Just hold off the pitchforks for the special episode. I apologize in advance for what I have planned for that one. In the meantime, review!**


	14. Pacify Her (Part Two)

**I was gonna cram this episode into two parts, but I realized that this part would be really long. So, three parts, it is!**

* * *

 **Pacify Her (Part Two)**

Out on the very edge of Anti-Fairy World, there was a small colony of Xye. Though most Xye were dangerous and bloodthirsty, there were a handful that were more benevolent. Still bloodthirsty, but less dangerous. Their houses were small, barely big enough for a family of three. And, the Diablo's were a family of four. Still, Brenda and Bryson loved their tiny house and didn't mind its size. (Brenda called it cozy. Bryson called it comfortably cramped.) Right now, their parents were out hunting, and the twins had the house to themselves.

The two had various art supplies sprawled across the hardwood floor, a _Bunsen is a Beast_ marathon playing on the TV. As Brenda cut up a sheet of paper and laughed at the titular beast's animated antics, her brother tapped on her shoulder. Brenda glanced at him and snorted.

"I bedazzled my face!" Bryson announced, grinning like an idiot and pointing at his fake-jewel encrusted face.

Brenda shook her head good-naturedly. "Bryson, you are so weird."

A crash immediately silenced their laughter. Instinct took over, and they snarled and raced to the kitchen, where the sound was coming from. Before they got very far, they heard familiar voices and relaxed.

"I can't believe you just broke the window!"

"You gots a better plan?"

"It's called _knocking_ , you twit!"

To their surprise, Foop's parents were now floating in the kitchen. Anti-Wanda was holding a baseball, and Anti-Cosmo looked extremely annoyed with her.

Bryson, ever the cheerful one, rubbed the fake gems off his face and ran up and hugged the adults, making Anti-Wanda drop her bat. "Foop's mom and dad! What a wonderful surprise!"

Anti-Cosmo scowled and tried to wiggle out of his grasp. "Unhand us, you heathen!" Bryson let go, and Anti-Cosmo straightened his blazer. "Just tell us if our son is here so that we can leave and never come back."

"Foop's not here, Mr. Anti-Cosma," Brenda replied, suddenly worried for her square friend. "We haven't seen him since school."

Bryson shrugged. "Why'd you think he'd be here?"

Anti-Wanda glared daggers at her husband. "Go on. Tell them. Tell them 'bout the stupid thing ya done did. Go on, now."

Anti-Cosmo bit back a scathing retort - mostly to hide his own guilt - and his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the collar ID. His pulse picked up in a strange mix of nervousness and relief. "It-It's Foop!" He immediately answered.

* * *

Whenever Foop was mad, he liked to take out his frustrations on some pathetic human. So, he was quite happy to see his old pals, Dark Laser and Denzel Crocker, picking on some of the latter's students. They would make things more fun. Although, he'd tried to hide how hurt he was, he either wasn't very good at it, or his friends were more perceptive than he thought. Probably the former, considering that one of them talked to a toy like it was alive, and one had a hairless cat named _Girlfriend_. Seriously, Foop had friends his own age now. Why did he still hang out with those weirdos?

Anyway, when they'd tried to push him to tell them what was wrong, a quick warning blast from his ba-ba had shut them up quite nicely. Now they were sitting in Crocker's bedroom (aka, the man's mother's basement), pondering who to mess with.

Foop flew back and forth, pacing as he sifted through his options. "I was thinking of annihilating Timmy Turner or Chloe Carmichael, but I target them all the time. I need a fresh face to take out my frustration on. Do you guys have anyone you can't stand?"

Laser hummed in thought. "Well, I do have an enemy named Lucas Aircrawler. But, he lives in a galaxy far, far away. What about you, Flipsie?" He asked his...toy dog, which was on the floor next to him. "Any enemies for Foop to take his aggression out on?" Flipsie flipped, which was really the only thing that stupid toy ever did. Laser laughed. "Oh, you're right. Who care ever hate someone as cute as you?"

"I can think of a few people," Foop deadpanned.

Crocker waved his hand enthusiastically. "Oh! I know someone we could destroy! Her name is Mary Alice Doombringer. She once stole my job in order to track down children who had _FAIRY GODPARENTS_! I would very much like to get some well-deserved revenge."

"Sounds good to me!" Foop decided. "By the way, I noticed when you spazzed just now that _you're sitting on my phone_."

Frowning, Crocker reached underneath him and, lo and behold, pulled out a skull-shaped cellphone. "So, I am."

Foop crossed his arms. "You better not have butt-dialed anyone."

Crocker glanced at the small screen, noticed that the caller ID read "Father," said, "Nope. Definitely didn't butt-dial anyone," and hung up the phone.

* * *

"Mary Alice Doombringer?" Anti-Cosmo pondered the name. "Never heard of her."

Suddenly, Bryson was gripping his shoulders and shaking him in a panic. " _Doombringer_!? AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Let go of me, you imbecile!" Anti-Cosmo snapped before pushing the child to the floor. "Seriously, do you even know what personal space _is_?"

Anti-Wanda cleared her throat. "Kids, do y'all know this here Doom-bringin' lady?"

Brenda shivered. "Oh, do we ever. She's horrible! She kills magical creatures for, like, no reason at all. She nearly killed our parents, once."

"And, Xye aren't easy to kill," Bryson added, standing back up, "so you know she knows what she's doing."

"Are you telling me," Anti-Cosmo realized with dread, "that my son is going to go after a ruthless _killer_?"

Anti-Wanda froze. "Wait. He do what?"

"Go after?" Brenda repeated, shaking her head harshly. "Oh, no no no no no! You don't go after Doombringer. She goes after _you_ , and when she catches you-" Bryson mimed choking, made some weird gagging sounds, clutched his heart with a sharp gasp, and to the floor with his tongue dangling from his mouth. "Yeah," his twin pointed to him, "that pretty much sums it up."

Panicked, Anti-Wanda grabbed her husband shook him harshly, shouting, " _What do we do_? _What do we do_?"

She let go of him, when he snapped, "Will everyone stop shaking me, so I can think!?" Straightening his blazer _again_ , Anti-Cosmo said more calmly than he felt, "Brenda, Bryson, you kids sound like you know this woman. Can you tell us how to find her? If we find her, we're sure to find Foop."

"We know she lives in some town called Dimmsdale-" Bryson started.

"Of course, she does," Anti-Cosmo muttered.

"-but we don't know the exact address."

"But, if we all put our heads together," Brenda added, "then surely we can figure out-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Anti-Cosmo interrupted, because he loathed where this was going. "'We' are myself and my wife. If you kids think you're included in this alleged 'we,' then you are a few lives short of a black cat."

Anti-Wanda pulled him to the other end of the room, saying to the Xye, "Will y'all excuse us?"

"Tick tock," Brenda warned. "The longer we stand here, the more likely it is that Foop's been turned into a paper weight."

"Actually, he'd probably make a good paper weight," Bryson stated. "He's got a nice shape for it, and-"

"You're not helping." She grabbed her brother's wrist and dragged him to the front door. "Come on. We're not waiting for them to save Foop."

Brenda glanced back at the adults. "But, how are they gonna find Doombringer without us?"

"They're grown-ups. They'll figure it out."

While the twins snuck out, Anti-Wanda scolded her husband, "I hate it when you do this!"

But, Anti-Cosmo just shrugged helplessly. "Do what? What am I doing?"

"You're letting your dark little past life cloud your judgement! The twins can help!"

Anti-Cosmo started to roll his eyes, but then he realized that he and his wife were suddenly the only people in the room. "Um, Anti-Wanda-"

"'Anti-Wanda" nothing! They know where this Doombringer is, so they can help us."

"But-"

"It don't matter what kind of critters they are. They're Foop's friends. They're sweet kids, and not all Xye are monsters-"

"For smoke's sake, woman, they aren't even here!"

"Of course, they aren't here, dum-dum! They- Uh…" Anti-Wanda turned around and peered all around the empty kitchen. "Holy cornbread! They vanish-ified! Now, how are we gonna find our boy?"

Anti-Cosmo hummed in thought. "Well, there's probably something in my spell book that can help us."

With that he poofed them back to the castle to grab his spell book.

Only to find that it was nowhere to be found.

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Anyone else miss Doombringer? They played off her episode like she would come back, but she never did. Well, she'll be back in Part Three! Review!**


	15. Pacify Her (Part Three)

**Summary: A rift forms between Anti-Cosmo and Foop after an argument, causing Foop to run away and end up in the clutches of a fairy hunter.**

 **I probably could have crammed this into three parts, but it was getting _long_.**

* * *

 **Pacify Her (Part Three)**

"Pick a spell, boys!" Foop encouraged as he and his friends stood (well, floated, in his case) on Doombringer's front lawn. "Any spell at all! As long as it sounds painful and or humiliating!"

Crocker and Laser were looking curiously through the Spell Book that Foop had borrowed from his father. They all sounded pretty advanced for someone as young as Foop.

"Uh, Foop," Laser decided to voice this thought, "these all sound pretty interesting, but are you sure you can pull them off?"

Foop shrugged. "Well, my dad casts them pretty easily. Granted, he has almost a hundred years of experience, but I stole- I mean, I'm sure I can figure them out."

"Did you almost say that you _stole_ the book?"

"I did not _steal_ anything. I _borrowed_ the Spell Book. Without permission."

Crocker glanced up at that. "Isn't your dad gonna notice it's gone?"

Foop crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Not if we make this quick. Now hurry up and pick something. You know what?" He swiped the large book from them. "Just let me decide." He flipped through the book. One page made his eyes light up. "Oh! There's a potion in here that can create a deadly disease. And, it looks so easy that I bet a human could do it! Except, we probably don't have enough time to gather the ingredients." He flipped through some more. "Oh, yes! This one involves fire! Hold this." Foop handed Crocker his bottle.

Crocker raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Um, don't you need this to activate your magic?"

"Not for this spell," Foop replied. "You see, the Spell Book is a sacred anti-fairy artifact. When an anti-fairy - in this case, my father - is declared ruler of Anti-Fairy World, he is given the Book of Black Magic, more commonly referred to as the Spell Book. It is filled with the most powerful magical spells known to anti-fairies. While some of these spells require the use of a magic wand, the majority are non-corporeal, meaning that they only require one's internal magic, no physical object needed. This book is my people's most treasured possession, not only because of the spells it contains, but because it and its spells are deeply tied into the history of my world." Crocker and Laser gazed at it in a new light. "Yes, this millennia-old treasure is, without exaggeration, the embodiment of how Anti-Fairy World and its anti-fairies have been kept safe for as long as they've had wings. Which is why...I'm going to totally abuse its power solely so that I can take out my anger on some random stranger!"

Crocker glanced at his watch. "Could you maybe abuse it quickly. The last thing we want is Doombringer coming out here and catching us."

"Not to mention, you probably don't want your father knowing that you took something so important without his permission," Laser pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah," Foop dismissed their worries. "Just let me set this place on fire. This spell is called St Elmo's Inferno." He studied the page briefly then dropped the book on to the grass, still open to "St Elmo's Inferno." He closed his eyes, concentrated as hard as his short attention span would allow, and crossed his arms in an X over his chest. "Pyranus." He raised his arms over his head and spun around once. "Charkeero." Finally, he pressed the heels of his hands together, opened his eyes, and held his palms out toward the house. "Blazoria!"

It took a moment...but a small puff of smoke appeared out of Foop's hands. He tried the spell again...with the same result.

He growled and didn't even with the body positions. "Pyranus charkeero blazoria! _Burn, you stupid building_!"

His annoyance only grew, when Crocker shushed him. "Foop, stop yelling! We don't want Doombringer to catch us."

Foop ignored him, continuing to shout out the spell. "Pyranus charkeero blazoria, you mother-"

"I SAID, 'STOP YELLING!'" Crocker screamed, then realized what he did. "Oops."

A green ray came out of nowhere, and they all jumped, barely avoiding the blast. Foop turned around and saw a woman he'd never seen before, and he assumed this was Doombringer. She had long platinum-blond hair, amber eyes, and a purple star tattoo on her cheek, and she wore a black jumpsuit (skin-tight, Foop couldn't help noticing) with a skull on it. All that, combined with the blaster in her hands and the crazed look in her eyes, made her the hottest woman he'd ever seen. Brenda Diablo excluded, of course.

Doombringer sneered at them. "Well, well. There I was, binge-watching _Futurama_ on Netflix, when suddenly I heard some idiot screaming his head off on _my property_."

"I told you to stop yelling!" Crocker reprimanded Foop.

"Actually, I was talking about you, Denzel," Doombringer informed him. "I didn't hear a peep out of the kid." Foop stuck his tongue out at Crocker. Doombringer aimed her ray gun. "Either way, I don't appreciate morons interrupting my me-time!"

She fired blast after blast at them as they fled. Before he knew it, Foop felt a searing pain in his wing, where one of the blasts clipped him, and he fell face-first to the ground.

His friends stopped running. "Oh no, Foop!" Laser cried out.

Crocker held him back from helping the toddler. "No! Leave him! _It's what he'd want_!"

As the two fled to safety, Foop gaped at their backsides in shock and fury. "Wait, what are you- _Get back here, you idiots_!" His blood chilled, when he felt the cold metal of the ray gun pressed against the back of his head. Then, he remembered that he had the upper hand. "Back off, female. I have magic, and I know how to use-" ...Oh, yeah. He muttered disdainfully, "And, Denzel still has my magic bottle."

* * *

Meanwhile, Anti-Wanda flew around her husband's private study screaming in panic. The Book of Black Magic was missing! Now, how would they save their little boy?

Anti-Cosmo, however, completely ignored her. Yes, the Spell Book's disappearance was, to put it likely, a serious problem, but it would have to wait. Drawing in a calming breath, Anti-Cosmo raised his wand. "I summon the All-Seeing Eye. To tear a hole into the sky." Anti-Wanda stopped panicking as she realized what her husband was doing. "Reveal to me that which is hidden. Unveil to me what is forbidden." A blue beam shot out from his wand, showing him an image of the side of a house. Foop was nowhere to be seen but… What were those accursed twins doing there?

"Yay!" Bryson cheered. "We finally found Doombringer's house!"

"Shush!" Brenda hissed, covering his brother's mouth with her hand. "She'll hear us. If we're gonna save Foop, we need to be super quiet."

" _Okay_!" Bryson bellowed. Brenda shushed him again, and he whispered, "Okay."

Anti-Cosmo stopped the spell, humming in bemusement. "Why would those Xye want to help Foop?"

"Um, _doy_ ," Anti-Wanda replied. "They care about him, which you, for some reason, still fail to understand."

Anti-Cosmo narrowed his eyes. "Can we have this argument _after_ our son is safe?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

* * *

The two of them poofed to the house, startling the Xye twins.

Anti-Cosmo waved dismissively. "Step aside, children. Leave this to people who genuinely care for Foop."

"Ignore my husband," Anti-Wanda interjected. "He has problems."

"I beg your pardon?"

Brenda cleared her throat. "I don't understand what you guys are talking about, and I don't think I want to. Now, to save Foop, we're gonna need to find a way inside."

Bryson proudly puffed out his chest. "Leave that to Bryson. I've got a plan. It's a little complicated, but I think it'll work." Suddenly, he ran around the front lawn, making all kinds of loud, strange sounds.

Anti-Wanda smiled. "This is a good plan." She ran over and joined him, poofing up a set of cymbals and crashing them together.

Doombringer kicked the door open and started at the sight before her. "What. In the World." The two creatures, still screaming, ran past her and into the house. "Hey! What are you doing?"

Thoroughly confused, Anti-Cosmo and Brenda exchanged looks, shrugged, and followed the others inside, ignoring the startled cry from Doombringer. But, before any of them could get very far, Doombringer turned up the setting on her ray gun and shot them with it.

* * *

 **I was inspired by _Gravity Falls_ and _Star vs the Forces of Evil_ and decided to create my own story arc for this series! Also, a message to my fellow Fallers ( _Gravity Falls_ fans): I have a new character in mind, and you may find him familiar. You don't have to watch _Gravity Falls_ to figure him out, so don't panic if you're not a Faller. Until next time, review!**

 **PS. Reality's an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold! Byyyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee!**

 **PPS. Only Fallers will know what that means.**

 **PPPS. The first PS is a clue!**


	16. Pacify Her (Part Four)

**Whoa! Finally at the final part of this episode! If you thought things were intense before... Holy Cipher, you ain't seen nothing yet!**

* * *

 **Pacify Her (Part Four)**

Anti-Cosmo woke up to the stench of burnt flesh and sight of his son's sheepish grin. "Hey…" Foop drawled nervously. "So, I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing here…"

Wait a minute. Foop! Anti-Cosmo bolted to his feet. Thank the devil his son was alright! But… "Foop? Where are we?"

"And, why am I smelling bacon?" Anti-Wanda asked, waking up as well.

The Xye - who, like the anti-fairies, were in their own individual cages, which were hanging from the ceiling - were also waking up.

Foop ignored his parents' questions. "Well, at least you're all alive. I assume. One or more of you could be a zombie."

Anti-Wanda gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh my gosh! What if I _am_ a zombie? That means I'm gonna have to eat brains. Starting with my husband's 'cause his has the most meat on it!"

Foop deadpanned, "No, Mother. I think you're good."

"Will someone just tell where the devil we are?" Anti-Cosmo asked. He looked over his surroundings. The room reminded him of a typical underground laboratory. A bit cliche, but he had an underground lab of his own, so he wasn't really one to talk. One thing in particular caught his attention: a metal table next to a shelf of probing/torture devices. This cliche was not one that he used, and he certainly wasn't keen on seeing it _be_ used. He subconsciously grabbed one of the metal bars of the cage. Only to immediately jerk his hand back when a searing pain shot through his palm, and the smell of burnt flesh became fresh in the air.

Foop's response was so matter-of-fact that it was annoying under the circumstances. "By the way, the bars are made of iron. I learned that the hard way."

"Thanks for the warning," Anti-Cosmo muttered.

Iron. Of course. Not only was their corporeal magic useless on it, but it physically hurt anti-fairies to touch it.

Anti-Wanda confidently strolled up to the bars of her own cage. "Well, I'll free us, 'cause I'm a zombie now, and these here irons bars can no longer hurt me." She grabbed the bars, " _Yowie_!" and yanked her hands away.

"You're not a zombie, you twit," father and son deadpanned simultaneously.

"Wait a minute," Bryson piped up happily. "Brenda and I are Xye! Iron has no effect on us!"

Brenda frowned. "Bryson, we won't develop our super strength until we're five years old."

"Dang it! We're one year short of bending these bars."

The door opened, and Doombringer stepped into the room, a large maroon book clutched against her chest. It seemed familiar somehow. "Ah, good, you're all awake," Doombringer stated as she walked up to the cage. "Now, you can all bear witness to what happens when _magical creatures_ ," she spout out the words as if they were a deadly poison, "interfere with human society."

Foop dropped to his knees and begged, "Oh, _please_ don't kill me! Take my friends and family! They've lived full lives!"

Doombringer scowled. "You see, _this_ is why I hate you magical little pests. You're all alike! You only think about yourselves. You're nothing but a bunch of heartless monsters!"

"Hey, we resent that!" Anti-Cosmo protested.

"Yeah," Anti-Wanda agreed. "We gots hearts inside our general chest areas!"

Doombringer rolled her eyes and muttered, "Looks like I found the stupid one."

Anti-Wanda looked over at Bryson and whispered, "She's talking about you."

"But, it doesn't really matter," Doombringer continued. "You'll all suffer the same fate. But, I do want to thank the little square one, here." Foop visibly flinched. Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow, wondering why his son kept stealing glances at him. "If it wasn't for you, little guy, I never would have found this little trinket." She turned the book around, revealing the title - _Book of Black Magic_ \- written in thick black ink.

"The Spell Book!?" Anti-Cosmo gasped, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until Doombringer blinked at him with interest. "I mean, what might that be, milady?"

Doombringer stepped in front of his cage. "You know what this?"

The Spell Book. Mother of the Devil, _The Book of Black Magic_ … "I've never seen that thing before in my life."

"What are you talking about!?" Anti-Wanda exclaimed incredulously. "That's your Spell B-"

" _Silence_!" Foop snapped at her.

Doombringer ignored them and growled at Anti-Cosmo, "Tell me what this book is."

Anti-Cosmo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Why, I'd sooner cavort with unicorns!"

"We can do the easy way," Doombringer gave a wicked grin, "or we can do this my way." Much to everyone else's horror, she opened up Foop's cage, grabbed his arm, and pulled his struggling form out.

Brenda banged on the bars in anger. "Let go of him!"

"I said, take my friends and family, and leave me alone!" Foop yelled as Doombringer slammed him on to the metal table, wrist and ankle restraints automatically locking in place. "Startled shrieks of terror!"

"Tell me about the book, anti-fairy," Doombringer began, picking up knife - sweet savior, a _knife_ \- off a nearby rack of torture devices, "or watch as I see what exactly makes this little guy tick."

Bryson shrugged. "Stuff makes him tick. Junk makes him tick, too. But, wicked awesome stuff? That's what _really_ makes him tick." He frowned at everyone's confused expressions. "That's not what she meant, is it?"

"I see, we have _two_ stupid ones," Doombringer deadpanned. Then she grinned, turned to Foop, and readied her knife. "Last chance to tell me about that book."

Foop struggled harder. "Wailing sounds! Panicked crying! Why is no one helping!?"

Anti-Cosmo's brain worked a mile a second. He couldn't let this psychopath know about The Book of Black Magic, but his son… Unless, he… It could work…

"Time's up!" Doombringer announced, lowering the knife, as the terrifying toddler squeezed his watery eyes shut in horrified anticipation.

She stopped just shy of the child's stomach, when Anti-Cosmo shouted, "WAIT!" louder than he'd wanted to. Doombringer looked at him expectantly, and he sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening. "I surrender."

"Good choice." Doombringer placed the knife back on the rack. Foop looked ready to faint with relief.

As she walked up to Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda swallowed hard and said, "Anti-Cosmo, I hope you know what you're doing."

Doombringer stopped abruptly, amber eyes wide with disbelief. "Anti-Cosmo? As in, ruler of Anti-Fairy World?"

Anti-Cosmo didn't ask how she knew of him. He just had to focus on his magic. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he felt his heart rate speed up. Just a little longer…

Brenda asked the unspoken question for him. "How did you know that?"

"Child," Doombringer responded, "that's what I do. When I find out about a magical creature, I learn everything I can about their kind so that I figure out the best ways to destroy them."

Almost ready. If the others could just keep her talking…

"But, why do you wanna hurt magical creatures?" Bryson asked.

Doombringer grabbed his cage and rattled it harshly, making the Xye's body thrash and bang against the bars. Brenda growled and tried in vain to pry open her cage. The human ignored her. "Because, you little freaks of nature ruined my life! It was pixies who sold my parents that car on Friday the Thirteenth. It anti-fairies who caused that accident! It was Xye who _devoured my family when they didn't survive the crash_. You monsters do nothing but destroy lives! And, I'm going to put a stop to your tyranny one monster at a time!" She grinned madly and turned back to Foop, who panicked again as he realized that he was still strapped to the table. "Starting with this little guy, right here."

"No! No, no!" Foop protested. "Don't start with me! Start with Bryson! He's super irritating!"

Bryson banged his fists against the bars. "It's true! Take me instead!" Then, he heard himself. "Wait, what? No."

Brenda yanked on her pigtails in frustration. " _Gah_! What are we gonna do!?"

"I don't know! I never know anything!" Anti-Wanda looked over at his husband, who stood stone-still with his eyes closed. Even her small mind recognized what was happening. "Kids, brace yourselves."

"What's going on?" Brenda asked.

It happened fast, but for Anti-Cosmo, it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. He opened his eyes, which were now glowing and had elongated pupils, like bright green snake eyes. The light bulbs shattered, glass pouring to the floor. The metal table collapsed, freeing Foop, who plopped to the floor, mostly unharmed. The cages broke apart, their inhabitants (except Anti-Cosmo, who was still floating) also falling to the ground. Doombringer jumped back in fright, barely avoiding being crushed by her own weapons rack. _The Book of Black Magic_ fell from her grasp, and Brenda dove in and grabbed it. She and her brother ran up to the stunned Doombringer and simultaneously punched her in the stomach. At the exact same time that a bright green fire erupted behind her. Her body didn't fall into the flames, but her hair wasn't so lucky.

As she screamed in pain and panic, Foop scrambled on all fours to his friends and family. "We need to get out of here!"

"No kidding!" Brenda snapped. "Anti-Cosmo, you can stop whatever that is now!"

But, Anti-Cosmo ceased the spell without hearing her. As the last of the magical burst drifted from his white-hot skin, the usual wave of dizziness came over him, and he collapsed to the floor. He saw his son run up to him and his wife raise her wand just before he blacked out.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo woke up to the smell of decay and a wet sensation on his face. He forced his eyes open and immediately rolled them as his son's vampiric pig continued licking him. He playfully pushed the creature away from him. "Down, boy. You smell as if death could barf."

Vladimir simply oinked in response and hopped off the couch, only for Anti-Wanda to throw herself on top of her husband and wrap her arms tightly around him, a huge grin on her face. This violation of personal space, he didn't mind so much. "You're awake! I've been hugging the kids nonstop to practice for this moment."

"Okay, okay. Give me some breathing room, woman." Anti-Wanda floated off him, and he sat up, rubbing his aching head. "Where in the Axolotl's name are we?"

Anti-Wanda giggled at this. "Back home, ya dum-dum. I poofed us all here after you went all non-corporeal magic on Doombringer's tushy."

"And, the Spell Book?"

"I put it back in your study, where it belongs."

"Speaking of," Bryson added, "that was some impressive magic, back there. Seriously, I mean, wow! This thing blew up and that thing blew up and your eyes were scary but it was still awesome!"

"Yeah, that was amazing," Brenda praised. "But, I thought your magic didn't work so close to iron."

Anti-Cosmo chuckled. He loathed admitting it (so he wouldn't), but the Xye's curious gazes were actually quite adorable. "All you kids need to know is that the spells in that book aren't quite the anti-fairy magic you're familiar with." Then, his heart sank as he briefly locked eyes with the child who had been unusually quiet. Foop looked away and awkwardly rubbed his arm.

Brenda coughed. "Wow, I am late for my homework."

"I'm late for...that thing," Anti-Wanda hesitantly announced.

"And, I'm late for my own death," Bryson said, before the three of them left the room.

After a brief awkward silence, Foop sighed and sat next to father on the couch. "So...we got the Spell Book back. That's...That's a thing." Before Anti-Cosmo could respond, Foop face-palmed and groaned. "I'm bad at this. Okay, um, I realize I...screwed up, to put it lightly-"

"You're not the only one, dear boy," Anti-Cosmo interrupted. "None of this would have happened, if I hadn't been so judgemental."

"Yeah, what's that about, anyway? You have no problem with Dark Laser, who talks to a toy dog, or Denzel Crocker, who has a hairless cat named Girlfriend. Why do you hate Brenda and Bryson?"

Anti-Cosmo sighed. Maybe it was time to tell him the truth. The boy was bound to find out eventually, right? "I don't hate the twins, son. They're fine kids."

Foop blinked, and his brow creased. "Then...I'm even more confused."

 _Oh, please don't hate me,_ he silently begged. "What I'm about to tell is _highly_ confidential. The only other people who know are your mother and your Uncle Anti-Schnozmo." _And, several Xye._ "You mustn't tell another soul. Understood?"

Foop was taken aback by the visible fear on his normally calm and collected parent's face. "Of-Of course." For some reason, Vladimir picked that moment to jumped back on the couch, sitting between them. "Down, boy. We're having a moment." The vampig leaped off the couch and waddled out of the room. "Now, what's this secret?"

Anti-Cosmo opened his mouth then closed it again. Was he really going to do this? And, if he did...would his only son look at him the same way again? Anti-Cosmo mentally smacked himself. Foop's closest friends (one of whom, the child had a crush on) were Xye. The boy wouldn't think any less of his father.

Hopefully.

"Take your time, Daddy," Foop said patiently. "I've got nothing better to do. Except, get my ba-ba back from Denzel, but I don't have to do that right this second."

But, Anti-Cosmo hadn't most of that. Because, Foop had never called him "Daddy" before. Anti-Cosmo's heart twisted, but his son's patience needed to be rewarded with answers. "Alright. Here it goes. I had just gotten out of college, when I was...a-attacked by a Xye. She...t-turned me." Foop's jaw dropped, and his violet eyes widened. Anti-Cosmo tried not to read into that too much. "I spent ten _years_ in that form. And, I- Oh, heavens, I enjoyed it. I killed and fed and I loved every unholy minute of it."

Foop stammered for a bit, and Anti-Cosmo bit down on a trembling lip at the reaction. But, his son's reaction was partially from the realization that he had never seen his father cry before, and he didn't want to see it any time soon. "Well," Foop started hastily, "you, uh, you're obviously not a Xye anymore, right? So, now you hate that stuff. You do hate that stuff, right?"

And, now Anti-Cosmo felt even worse. "Of course, I hate it! Now, that I'm an anti-fairy again, the very memory makes me want to imprison myself in an iron butterfly net!" Foop relaxed a little. "Anyway, that's what happened. That's why I hate Xye so much. Although, now that I'm saying it out loud, I realize that I've been basing my opinion of an entire race on one incident." He laughed bitterly. "I suppose I'm no better than Doombringer, huh?"

"Whoa. _Never_ say that about yourself," Foop argued firmly. "You are nothing like her. _She_ is the one basing her opinion off one incident. And, while her incident was pretty bad, it sounds it wasn't half as traumatizing as yours. I mean, do you seriously remember _everything_ that you did as a Xye?" His father's silence was all the answer he needed. "You spent ten years - _ten years_ \- living among the very creatures you despise. You know first-hand how monstrous they can be. Do I fully understand what's going through your head? Not at all. But, I can see where you're coming from."

"So, you aren't afraid of me?" Anti-Cosmo couldn't help it. The question just slipped out.

Foop gaped at him. "Wow. I mean- Wow. I-I literally cannot believe you just asked me that. I'm not afraid of you, you sensitive moron. You're not a Xye anymore. And, apparently, you've forgotten my best friends are Xye. And, you're my dad. What do I have to be afraid of?" Anti-Cosmo smiled and blinked back tears. "By the way, how did you turn back, anyway?"

"Oh." Anti-Cosmo chuckled at the memory. "That's how I met your mother, actually. I was, well, a-about to turn her, and… Well, the way to turn back a person who is not a born-Xye is to stab them through the heart with a magical object - say, an anti-fairy wand. I was there, your mother was there, and, well." Anti-Cosmo patted his chest meaningfully. "You fill in the blanks."

"Wow," Foop breathed in awe. "So, that's how you two met. I always assumed it involved a zombie apocalypse. Guess I owe Anti-Goldie five bucks." He frowned suddenly. "Anyway, I guess you're going to punish me for stealing, and subsequently losing, the Spell Book."

Anti-Cosmo thought over the day's events. "Honestly, I think the sheer terror you've endured today is punishment enough. Besides, we got the Book back. And, it's not like Doombringer can learn any critical information, so long as it remains in our possession."

Anti-Wanda suddenly poked her head back into the room. "I wasn't eavesdropping. I just listening without your awareness. Are y'all good now?"

Foop smiled. "We're good, Mother. Everything's good." Anti-Cosmo placed a gentle hand on his small shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile.

* * *

The flames deteriorated the moment Anti-Cosmo had lost consciousness, which was good for her house but didn't really help her burns. Doombringer had a gut-wrenching feeling that her hair wouldn't grow back after an injury like that, but she would worry about that later. If the ruler of the anti-fairies was so keen on getting that book back, it must have been pretty important. Of course, being in the hospital for third-degree burns meant that she wouldn't be reading it for a while, but that was okay.

She had spent nearly an hour photocopying all those pages for a reason.

 **The End…?**

* * *

 **For more information on Anti-Cosmo's dark past and first meeting with Anti-Wanda, please read my story, "Hospital Bracelets," which is rated T for a reason.**

 **As you can plainly see, this story is getting darker. I may end up changing the rating to T, but not all episodes are going to be quite this wild. I'm going try to stick to the K plus rating, but we'll see what happens once we get more into the overall story arc. So for now, review!**


	17. Black Cat's Cradle

**Summary: (Inspired by the _Star vs the Forces of Evil_ episode, "Baby") Anti-Cosmo has been ruling over Anti-Fairy World for one hundred years, but he is skeptical about his reward for doing so.**

 **There's a new character introduced in this one, and I plan on using her a lot. Let me know what you think of her!**

* * *

 **Black Cat's Cradle**

Pretty much every magical creature in the universe had, at the very least, heard Anti-Cosmo's name mentioned in passing. Many believed that the reason he was so well-known was because of his reputation. Bold, intelligent, not afraid to get his hands dirty, despite his proper Englishman-esque demeanor. Of course, like with all great rulers, people were doubtful at first. Many anti-fairies had even went so far as to try to assassinate him.

Well, their ashes had long-since been scattered by the howling winds of Anti-Fairy World. It didn't take long for his people to fear and respect him as much as they do today.

That being said, Anti-Cosmo Anti-Cosma was a mystery to all but the select few whom he trusted enough to open up to. Kitty did not expect to become one of those few (though she would have been honored). She simply wanted to get a feel for who her ruler was. She was not an anti-fairy, but that didn't stop her from greatly respecting Anti-Cosmo.

This was her main goal today: to get to know Anti-Fairy World's ruler. The first step had happened a few days ago. She had sent him a letter, saying that she was coming. If all went well, they would be working together.

If not… Well, the other Spirit Animals would probably never let her hear the end of it.

Kitalianna knew that it was ambitious to target someone so high in power and importance, especially since she was barely eight years old and had never been a Spirit Guide before. But, there was just something about Anti-Cosmo…

Stepping out of her tree house in the forest, Kitty's dragonfly-like wings flitted quickly behind her as she descended to a small puddle, leftover from last night's thunderstorm. First impressions were everything, she reminded herself as she surveyed her reflection. Large green eyes stared back at her, as she licked her front paws and used them to smooth out her whiskers. She then combed her claws through her short, jet-black fur, wishing that the small cowlick on the top of her head would cooperate just this once. Oh well. It would have to do.

Kitty breathed. She could do this.

Maybe.

No, she _could_.

...Maybe.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo had been waiting for her. The window to his private study was open, allowing her easy access inside. The first thing Kitty noticed was that he too had given his appearance some effort. He wore a blue blazer and slacks, both of which looked freshly ironed, and a bowler hat floated slightly above his head. His blue hair was messy in a way that seemed intentional, giving him a rugged look that balanced out his prim and proper attire.

His thick British accent blended both traits perfectly and made her self-conscious of her own tiny, high-pitched voice. "Ah," his fangs glinted in the fluorescent lighting as Kitty flew into the room, "you must Kitalianna."

Kitty forced herself not to shrink back at the raw magic that radiated from him like an aura. He was more powerful than she'd expected, and that was saying something. "You may call me Kitty. If you'd like."

Anti-Cosmo chuckled silently, and Kitty could have sworn he muttered, "A kitty named Kitty. Well, then." Only a minute in, and this was already going terribly. Maybe, she _was_ in over her head. Anti-Cosmo held out a hand for her. "Obviously, you know who I am."

His hand was deathly cold, when she shook it. "Of course, Anti-Cosmo. Or, is there something you'd prefer to be called?"

Anti-Cosmo clicked his tongue and stuck both hands in his pockets. "Why don't we see how this goes before we discuss nicknames?"

Kitty refused to let her discomfort show. She just smiled. "Okay. So, I understand that you have rejected Spirit Animals before me. Correct?"

"Word gets around. Care to know why?" Kitty didn't answer, didn't know if she wanted to know why. Anti-Cosmo floated up to the window and looked out it. "Tell me, Kitty. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

Kitty blinked, surprised at the odd change in topic. "People have tried to answer that question for years. As far as I know, there is no clear answer."

"Quite true. But, I'd like to know what you think the answer is."

It was a test. He had probably asked other Spirit Animals this question too. Kitty thought for a while. Why was a raven like a writing desk? The two didn't seem to have anything in common physically. Perhaps this question was more philosophical. "They can be light or dark, happy or sad, good or evil. It all depends on perspective and who is using them at the time."

Anti-Cosmo was silent for so long that Kitty worried that she had said the wrong thing. Then he spoke. "...Wow." He turned around, gazing at her with awe in his green eyes (eyes that, Kitty just noticed, were only a slightly lighter shade than her own). "My answer was simply that they both have feathers."

Kitty couldn't help it. She laughed loudly then slapped a paw over her mouth in embarrassment. It was a nervous laugh, but would Anti-Cosmo know that or think she was insulting him?

Thankfully, it appeared to be the former, since Anti-Cosmo laughed quietly and said, "Yeah, not the most poetic thing I've ever said. But, hey, it's true."

"Actually, desks don't have feathers."

Anti-Cosmo frowned, raising an eyebrow. "Pardon me for asking, Kitty, but how old are you?"

Kitty folded her paws behind her back, pretending that her fur wasn't bristling with anxiety. "Eight."

"Eight...hundred? Thousand?"

"Just...eight…" Kitty didn't make eye contact. Now that he knew how young she was, there was no way he'd pick her. After one hundred years of service, an anti-fairy ruler was rewarded with a Spirit Guide. Someone to help them when times were especially dark. And, more often than not, the two would become close companions. But, surely Anti-Cosmo would want someone older, someone with experience.

Her chest tightened even further, when Anti-Cosmo face-palmed and muttered, "Stuff and nonsense." Speaking louder now, he paced and threw his hands in the air. "A child. For smoke's sake, a _child_. I'm ten thousand years old, dang it!" Kitty wished that she could turn invisible, but then he ranted, "How is it that a mere child could come up with a more profound and intelligent answer than I?" Kitty's ears perked up. "And, furthermore, does no one know of the danger a Spirit Guide would face?" He stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes at her, the light's glare on his monocle hiding one eye, making him look even more threatening. "Where are your parents? I will speak with them at once!"

Kitty's chest tightened again. She was barely old enough to fend for herself, when…

Anti-Cosmo's gaze softened. He coughed into his fist and wrung his wand in his hands, mumbling under his breath, "Er, yes, well…" Now speaking to her, he said awkwardly, "Um, back to the feather-thing. Before the invention of pens and pencils, people used a large feather with a specially designed tip, which they dipped in ink in order to write with it. Hence why writing desks and ravens both have feathers." Kitty nodded in understanding. "I apologize for my rant. Certain things just...get me talking, you know?"

Kitty smiled, pleasantly surprised at how shy he'd suddenly become. "Well, you have a lot to say. And, I like listening."

"Kitty," he began, a small smile on his dark lips, "do you wish to know why I rejected the other Spirit Animals who tried to win me over?" Confidence rising, Kitty nodded. "Let's start with their characters. One, I couldn't stop arguing with. One was as vain than Juandissimo Magnifico." Kitty had no idea who that was. "The other, well, openly insulted my wife and son, so… Yeah, he didn't get out unscathed." Kitty made a mental note to be nice to his family. Not that she wouldn't have done that anyway. "Moreover, when I asked about the raven and writing desk…" He shrugged. "Well, they didn't really have an answer for me. In fact, they told me there _was_ no answer."

Kitty frowned in confusion. "Every question has an answer. Even if it's not clear."

"I know, right? And, that just _irks_ me. If I ask a question, I want an answer. Those boobs didn't even try. Not only did you try, but your response was far better than mine, and you're a great deal younger than both them and me. Seriously, it's not like I'm asking for a _correct_ answer. I just want something that sounds plausible. It's a bloody philosophical question from _Alice in Wonderland_. Not the SATs! And, furthermore-" His cheeks flushed. "I-I'm ranting again, aren't I?"

Kitty giggled. Anti-Cosmo was becoming less scary by the minute. "Like I said, you have a lot to say. You should be allowed to speak your mind, and I like to listen to you."

"Good. That means you won't mind hearing it more often."

Hope spread in her chest, as she processed his words.

Anti-Cosmo grinned at her. "Well, don't just float there with your mouth hanging open. Tell me how we go about making you my official Spirit Guide."

Kitty stammered a bit then grinned. "Oh! Oh, thank you, Anti-Cosmo!"

Then, she rolled up his sleeve. Before he could ask what she was doing, she slashed his arm with her claws, making him cry out in shock and pain.

Anti-Cosmo glared at her in outrage. "I-I say! What the devil-"

Kitty sliced open her own arm, grimacing at the pain. She pressed their wounds together, her red blood mixing with his silver, a pleasant warmth seeping through both of them.

"Fascinating," Anti-Cosmo said in amazement. They pulled back, and Anti-Cosmo looked over their arms in interest. Their injuries were gone, leaving a scar on both of them. Anti-fairies didn't get scars. Their magic prevented it, yet there it was, still red and raw. Anti-Cosmo gazed at her with an unspoken question.

Kitty proudly showed him her matching scar. "Now, we are BloodBound. I can sense when you need help, and I will come to you. Likewise, you will sense when I need help. The Bond is not as strong on your end, but it's there."

Rolling sleeve back down, Anti-Cosmo smirked at her. "Guess nothing's free in this world." Kitty shrugged. "So, how does this work? Are you going to live here now or something, or…?"

"If you want me to."

Anti-Cosmo blinked. "Um… I'll have to talk to my wife and son about that."

"Okay. Where are they?"

"Off doing something stupid, no doubt."

 **The End**

* * *

 **So, what do you think of Kitty? Clever name, I know. Do you think she should live in the castle? Either way, she wouldn't be in every episode, but I want your opinion.**

 **More on Anti-Wanda and Foop next time. Review!**


	18. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary: Anti-Wanda and Foop stumble upon an underground cave and discover something interesting inside it.**

 **This episode takes place during (and, later on, after) "Black Cat's Cradle," so I suggest you read that one first. Also, due to some future content, I'm changing the rating to T. Just in case.**

* * *

 **Down the Rabbit Hole**

Today was the fourth - count 'em, _fourth_ \- time a Spirit Animal would try to win over Anti-Cosmo. Honestly, Foop wished his father would just pick one and be done with it. Of course, given what his father said, the first three weren't exactly the best choices. In fact, Foop and his mother had actually met one that Anti-Cosmo had been considering. Foop forgot his name, but it was some rabbit with white fur. He had called Foop a "Stewie Griffin clone." (Foop didn't know what that meant, but the guy's tone made it sound insulting.) That, the anti-toddler could handle. But, then the ignorant boob called Anti-Wanda a "fat inbred hillbilly." Anti-Wanda wasn't the sharpest dagger in the weapons vault - if anything, she was one of the dullest - but even she understood the insult. Seeing his mother so close to tears at the jab, naturally Foop wanted to chase the little pest around with an axe.

But, Anti-Cosmo had heard everything and spent the next ten minutes doing it for him. It was fun to watch, but Foop had really wanted to do it himself.

Fortunately, today he got his chance. He and his mother had been in the backyard, playing hot potato (with a flaming potato, of course), when that very same rabbit reared his fuzzy little head - which had a scar on it from the aforementioned chase - muttering something about how he was dumb enough to leave his wallet in the castle. Elated at the opportunity for revenge, Foop poofed up an axe for himself and flew to the rabbit. The rabbit's big blue eyes widened in terror at the sight, and he flew away on his stupid dragonfly wings, screaming. Anti-Wanda followed them, probably to claim vengeance of her own. That, or she just liked chasing things. Foop didn't really care either way.

So, there they were, chasing the white rabbit through the woods, Foop laughing maniacally and brandishing an axe, and his mother most likely not having a clue what was going on and just running for the thrill of it.

"Run, white rabbit, run!" Foop taunted.

The rabbit called back, "My name is Forrest!"

Anti-Wanda shouted, "Run, Forrest, run!"

Forrest muttered, "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that."

Gaining on him, Foop screamed, " _Off with your head_!" But, just as he was about to make good on his threat, Forrest squeezed his way into a hole in the ground. Foop growled in frustration and threw his axe to the ground.

His mother stopped beside him and snapped, "Oh, Cheshire's smile! The little varmint got away!"

Foop crouched down in front of the hole and peered into it. "Actually, I can probably fit in here."

"I-I don't know, honey." Anti-Wanda said wearily. "It's sweet that you wanna defend my honor or whatever you're doing, but this seems like one of them stupid things your daddy's always telling us _not_ to do."

"Mother, please," Foop scoffed. "I got this."

He tried to push his way through the hole, spitting out the dirt that kept getting in his mouth. He shimmied into the darkness, as his square body slowly made its way inside. But, then Foop's hand landed on a significantly _less_ sturdy spot, and the ground opened up beneath him. Letting out a startled cry, Foop collapsed through the new hole, twisted in an attempt to float, and instead landed side-first on the ground below. He groaned in agony but was quickly distracted by his surroundings. He had landed in a huge underground tunnel, and a green light in the distance just barely illuminated his surroundings. Mindful of his potentially bruised body, he gingerly got to his feet. He jumped up, trying to float, but only managed to land face-first to the ground. He ignored the pain in his, well, everything and tried flying again. Nothing. He was basically jumping up and down like an idiot. He stopped jumping and flapped his bat wings, testing them. They felt okay, so what was the problem?

"Foop?" Anti-Wanda's worried voice brought him back to the present. "Foop, sweetie? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he called. "Hey, come check this out." After a moment, he heard shuffling above him, signalling that his mother was crawling down the rabbit hole. "Just be careful. I don't think we can-" Anti-Wanda fell on top of him, bringing a new level of pain with her, "-float...down here…" he finished weakly.

Anti-Wanda gasped and hopped off her son. "Well, stick me in a hat, and call me mad. We's in some creepy cave with creepy lighting! Oh! There's the lighting!" She pointed to the green light up ahead. "I'm gonna fly full-speed towards it!"

"Uh, Mother-"

But, before Foop could warn her about not flying, she leaped off the ground and collapsed. She lifted her head up, spat out some dirt, and stated, "I hurt my face. And, my boobles."

"Ignoring that last part," Foop deadpanned. "Let me try something." He raised his bottle and waved it around, trying to spark some magic from it. Nothing happened. He stroked his goatee in thought. "Something about this place must be screwing with our magic."

Anti-Wanda stood up and asked, pointing to the hole above them, "So, uh, how do we get out?"

Foop glanced up at the hole and swallowed panic. "Well, um, there-there's that light up ahead. Maybe it leads to a way out."

Anti-Wanda shook her head. "No way. My mama went into the light, _and look what happened to her_."

"...Yeah, I'm pretty sure this is different. Come on, Mother. Do you have any better ideas?" Anti-Wanda opened her mouth then immediately closed it. "That's what I thought." He started toward the light. "Well, let's see where this takes us."

They didn't speak as they trekked through the tunnel. The light grew brighter, the closer they got to it, and they squinted while their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Near the end of the tunnel, they did not find a way out.

Although, frankly, what they did find was a heck of a lot more interesting.

Illuminated a vibrant green color, Foop and Anti-Wanda gazed in awe and curiosity at the strange paintings on the wall. There was a cyclops-triangle-thing that reminded Foop of the one on the dollar-bill, but this one had stick-like arms and legs and… Was it seriously wearing a top hat and bowtie? Weird. Anyway, the other figure appeared to be a humanoid woman with huge bat wings and a scandalously short dress. The picture showed them blasting some kind of rays at each other.

"Well, someone's gonna get in trouble for drawing on the walls," Anti-Wanda commented.

"No, Mother," Foop corrected. "I think these are cave paintings, like the ones you see on TV." At his mother's blank expression, he continued, "The ancients made drawings, like this, to teach future generations, like ours, about what life was like for them. Or, in some cases, to warn us about some sort of prophecy that has yet to come true."

Anti-Wanda blinked. "So, what you're saying is that the people who drew on the walls got punished a long time ago."

"...Sure. But, these drawings could mean something very important."

"So, they broke the rules for a good reason?"

"Let's just keep walking."

Not far from there, closer to the source of the strange light, was another painting. The triangle was absent from this one, but the woman was in it. She was crouched on her knees and holding her head, as if in pain. Which made sense, considering that she appeared to be engulfed in flames. A little further down, the woman was floating above a group of creatures, though Foop couldn't tell what they were. Some sort of octagon-thing surrounded the woman, and it seemed to have been generated from the creatures.

Foop knew he wouldn't get a reasonable answer, but he asked, anyway. "What do you think it all means?"

"It means that whoever did this must have gotten one serious time-out."

Foop's eyebrows shot up. "You mean to say that the woman in these paintings did something that made someone want her gone? Or, that _she_ was punishing someone who did something unspeakable?"

Anti-Wanda frowned. "What? No, I mean, whoever drew this much on the walls must have gotten one slick grounding."

Why did he even bother?

Rolling his eyes, Foop caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision. Squinting against the harsh light, he and his mother walked cautiously toward it. Once their eyes adjusted, they realized what had been causing the strange green light. A huge green crystal, roughly the size of a full-grown human, was embedded in the wall of the cave. An essence of magic radiated from it, powerful enough to make the two anti-fairies physically tremble as they gazed in awe at it.

"Look at this incredible treasure," Foop breathed. "Why, I can _feel_ the sheer force of its power. Can't you just _feel_ it, Mother-dear?"

Anti-Wanda grinned and clasped her hands together. "I _can_ feel it. Truly, a powerful artifact. One to be treasured and treated with the greatest of care and respect."

"Yeah… What do you think it's worth?"

"A bajillion dollars!"

" _At least_ that!"

"You know who knows stuff?" Anti-Wanda asked, giddy at their find. "Your father! He could probably tell us what this here doodad is."

Foop scowled. "Ugh. If only we had a way out of here. Then, we could find out this crystal's value, split the profits 50/50 - and, by '50/50,' I mean 90/10 - and harness it's energy to _annihilate our foes and make them beg for the mercy that we shall not give_! Well, we may think about it. But, chances are, we'll ultimately decide not to give them mercy."

Anti-Wanda threw her hands up in excitement. "That is so many words, you just said!" Then, she lowered her arms and pursed her lips in thought. "Now, how do we get outta here? I know!" She reached into her pocket and pull out her SkullPhone. "I'll just call your father and tell him to come pick us up."

Foop facepalmed. "Mother, I don't think-"

"Oh." Anti-Wanda frowned, holding her phone up and moving it around. "I'm not getting any signal at all."

Foop rolled his eyes. "Of course not. We're underground!"

Suddenly, their bodies heated up. Not unpleasantly. More like a calming warmth that reminded Foop of his days in the womb. (Those were dark times. And, not just because it was really dark in there.)

Then, they realized with quite a shock that they were both back outside, next to the rabbit hole that they'd started at.

"Uh...Foop?" Anti-Wanda said carefully. "Did you poof us back out?"

Foop looked at her, then the hole, then back at her, completely stunned. "I-I thought you did."

Anti-Wanda twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "So, what the smoof brought us back here?"

* * *

They didn't figure out what poofed them to the surface, but they didn't really care at the moment. All they cared about was getting Anti-Cosmo down there so that he could, hopefully, tell them about that big crystal. So, they dragged him down there (along with his new Spirit Guide, apparently) to show him. But, being Anti-Cosmo, he was more interested in the cave paintings than a potentially high cash value.

"Come on, honey!" Anti-Wanda called, her and her son pausing in their run to the crystal. "We wanna show you the cool thing!"

"I'm looking at a cool thing of my own, right now," Anti-Cosmo said, gazing up at the painting with the triangle-guy. "Kitty, what do you make of this?"

Kitty - Anti-Cosmo's appropriately-named Spirit Guide - blinked in surprise. "Uh, m-me?"

Anti-Cosmo smiled and shrugged playfully. "I see no other black cats around here, so I'm probably talking to you." Kitty didn't respond. "Don't be nervous, dear girl. Just tell me what you think."

Foop inwardly groaned. There were Devil-knows-how-many Spirit Animals in the universe, and his father chose an inexperienced little kid with serious self-esteem issues. Honestly, what could possibly have possessed that man to pick-

Hold the phone, Brunhilda. Did he call her "dear girl?" Foop had always been his "dear _boy_." Coincidence? Perhaps. Either way, Foop made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

Kitty stared at the painting for a moment, anxiously wringing her tail in her paws. "Well, um… It looks like there's some kind of battle going on. Though I can't tell who's winning, from the picture."

Forgetting the crystal momentarily, Anti-Wanda ran up to the painting of the woman on fire. "What about this one, Miss Kitty?"

Kitty flew - whatever was screwing with the anti-fairies' magic obviously had no effect on Spirit Animals - up to that painting and cringed. "Oh my. It looks like the triangle won. Maybe."

Foop crossed his arms and scowled. "Isn't it obvious? Just look at the last one."

Kitty flew up to the one with the octagon-thing. "Hm… I don't know, Phil."

"My name is Foop."

"Sorry. Foop. It looks more like the people in the picture caused the lady to be encased in that weird bubble-thing."

"Interesting," Anti-Cosmo commented, walking up beside her and inspecting the painting for himself. "Do you suppose this woman is being punished for something?"

Kitty shrugged. "Possibly. Of course, another possibility is that the girl and the triangle are linked in some way. Did you notice how the triangle had some fire around it? And, in the next picture, the lady was encased in flames? Maybe, they have a magical bond, like ours."

Anti-Cosmo nodded. "Maybe. Or, maybe they are one and the same. One soul separated somehow, creating two separate entities."

"At the very least, they could the same species."

"Could be, dear girl. Could be."

Having heard enough, Foop loudly cleared his throat. "If you two are quite finished, I believe Mother and I had something to show you."

Anti-Cosmo blinked, as though just realizing that there was someone _other than that stupid cat_ nearby. "Hm? Oh, right. Sorry. Lead the way, you two."

"May we?" Foop deadpanned.

He started walking, and his mother caught up to him, grinning knowingly. "Is somebody jealous?" she whispered.

Foop gritted his teeth. "Of course not," he hissed back. "I just don't know if I like that girl being so close to Father."

"So, you don't think she should live with us?"

"Oh, she's living with us. I want to keep a sharp eye on that fuzzball."

Anti-Wanda giggled and sang quietly, "Jealous."

" _I am not_!" Foop screamed. Everyone stopped walking, as his face darkened with embarrassment.

Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

Foop resumed walking so that no one would see how ticked off he was. "Fine, fine. Everything's fine."

"Ignore all tension!" Anti-Wanda randomly exclaimed. She ran up ahead. "It's over here!"

The others followed her to the crystal, and Kitty and Anti-Cosmo stared in awe at it.

Kitty flinched, but smiled all the same. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed. "I've never felt such a fierce aura of magic!"

Foop scowled at her. "Of course, you haven't! You're practically a baby!"

"Aren't I older than you?" she asked, clearly hurt by his comment.

Foop ignored her. "Nice find, eh, Father?"

"Me and Foop was wondering how much this here shiny thing's worth," Anti-Wanda said. No answer. She frowned. "Cozzie?"

Anti-Cosmo just kept staring. He carefully walked up to the crystal and gently pressed his palms against it. Foop flew to his side and noticed how eerily focused his father was. Something wasn't right.

"Father?" the toddler said cautiously. No reaction. Foop swallowed his anxiety. "Daddy? Daddy, are you okay?"

Kitty placed a small paw on the older anti-fairy's shoulder. "Anti-Cosmo?" Anti-Cosmo blinked several times, lowered his hands, and looked at her. "I felt something through our BloodBond. We should go."

Anti-Cosmo shook his head clear and rubbed his head with one hand. "Sorry. I...I don't know what just happened." He reluctantly turned around to face the others. "Now, uh, how do we get out of here?"

So, Anti-Cosmo's _son_ couldn't coax him out of his trance, but the _cat_ could? Oh, it was on, now.

"I could probably fly us all out," Kitty suggested.

Foop had to laugh. "Yeah. I'm sure the cute little kitty-cat is just going to lift us all up, like Hercules, and fly us out of here." A harsh wind and trail of dark purple smoke came out of nowhere, taking Anti-Cosmo away with it. It then came back and took Anti-Wanda away. "Uh, w-w-what just happened!?"

The smoke came back, and Kitty materialized from it. "Your turn," she said calmly, smiling at him.

"Wait, what's happening?" Foop asked, still processing this turn of events as Kitty grabbed hold of him and flew both of them of there.

The crystal's light began pulsating.

 **The End…?**

* * *

 **Just in case anybody hasn't guessed the identity of the triangle-guy, I won't mention who he is. I'll just say that he does not belong to me.**

 **So, for now, review!**


	19. Rotten to the Core

**Summary: Something is wrong with Anti-Cosmo's magic, so Anti-Wanda, Foop, and Kitty travel to the very center of his magic in order to fix it.**

 **I'd like to thank FountainPenguin for letting me use her core-idea. It occurs to me that I didn't really use her concept and just sort of went with my own thing, but I might reference her concept later on. Who knows?**

 **The concept for the episode itself was inspired by the _Star vs the Forces of Evil_ episode, "Into the Wand." I find that that show inspires a lot of stuff for me.**

 **Episodes Required Before Reading:**

 **Black Cat's Cradle**

 **Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

 **Rotten to the Core**

Anti-Wanda, Foop, and Kitty barged into his private study. Normally, he'd be annoyed, but he had called them all here for a reason.

"What's wrong, sugar?" Anti-Wanda asked. "You never call us all in here."

Anti-Cosmo simply pointed to the scene before them. Several creatures littered the room, each and every one of them mutilated in some way. Wingless bats sprawled across the floor, black cats with twisted limbs and speckled with some kind of purple goo (one cat appeared to be stuck to the ceiling), spiders that had cracked exoskeletons and were encased in their own bloody - literally _bloody_ \- webbing. Really, the whole room was a mess of magical gore.

The others shrunk back in horror. Kitty seemed especially disturbed. "Oh my gosh! They're dead! I think- I think I'm gonna be sick!"

Foop rolled his eyes. "Calm down, you big baby. I'm sure they're fine." He blinked. "Are they fine, Father?"

Good question. For Kitty's sake, Anti-Cosmo coughed and said, "Uh, yeah. Potentially."

"Don't worry, honey," Anti-Wanda said, poofing up a bottle of bleach and a map of Mexico. "We'll clean up the evidence while you go into hiding. I know a guy who can sneak you across the border to Mexico."

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "I told you; they are potentially alive." Anti-Wanda frowned and poofed away the map and bottle. "And, anyway, the real problem is my wand." He carefully examined his wand for emphasis. "It is obviously broken. Watch." He tried to conjure more spiders, but they turned out the same.

Scratch that; they turned out _worse_.

Thoroughly nauseated by the sight, Kitty clutched her stomach and begged, "Stop! Stop! We get it. Now, will someone _please_ poof it all away?" Anti-Wanda and Foop (the latter rolling his eyes again) did as she asked - * _destroy the evidence poof*_ \- leaving no trace of the creatures. Sighing with relief, Kitty flew up to Anti-Cosmo's chest. "Your _wand_ isn't the problem, Anti-Cosmo." She tapped a paw just beneath his heart. "It's your core."

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Spirit Animals have kind of a sixth sense when it comes to magic," Kitty explained. "We can tell when there's a problem. And, in this case, it would seem that the problem is with your core. It's contaminated, for lack of a better word."

"C-C-Contaminated? My core?" Anti-Cosmo visibly paled.

"No!" Anti-Wanda flew to her husband and desperately held him close. "No, your core can't be conta-conta- that thing that sounds bad! I don't wanna lose you!"

Kitty gently pried Anti-Wanda off of him. "Calm down, Anti-Wanda. If it was something fatal, then I would feel it through our BloodBond. He'll be fine."

Anti-Wanda smiled slightly at the news.

Foop looked in confusion from one person to the other. "Uh, hello? Baby out of the loop, here. What in the name of death's doorstep are you guys talking about?"

Anti-Cosmo adjusted his monocle. "Cores, dear boy, are the source of our magic. All magical creatures have one."

"So, I have one, too? And, you guys all have one? And, say, a pixie would have one?"

Anti-Cosmo nodded. "Like I said, son, _all_ magical creatures have one."

"And, if it gets broke bad enough," Anti-Wanda flopped on to her back and lifted her head up to look at her son. "You die."

Foop swallowed hard, gazing nervously at his father.

Kitty smiled reassuringly. "Like I said, your dad's case doesn't seem to be fatal. I'll just have to go inside of his core and get rid of the contamination-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, time out!" Anti-Cosmo interrupted anxiously. "You're going... _in_ my core? Erm…" The magical core was the most precious and private part of one's body (even more so than the...reproductive parts, and that was saying something). Moreover, it was just generally improper to willingly expose your core to anyone who wasn't a spouse, family member, or doctor. Not that Anti-Cosmo didn't trust the people in the room. Anti-Wanda had seen his core many times. Foop was his son. Kitty was his Spirit Guide, and he most certainly trusted the girl, but…

And, honestly, he didn't even know that cores had an "inside."

Kitty's dark green gaze was understanding. "I know it's a very private part of you, Anti-Cosmo, but there's really no other way to fix your magic."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just take him to the doctor?" Foop suggested.

Kitty shrugged. "Well, technically, yes. But, by going inside of the core, I'll be able to flush out the contamination before a doctor could even figure out what was wrong. Plus, you won't have to pay those crazy medical bills."

"You can go _in_ a core?" Anti-Wanda asked in amazement, standing back up. "Can I come too? I've seen the outside of Cozzie's core, but I didn't know it had an _inside_."

"Hey, if my mom's coming, I wanna come too!" Foop protested.

Kitty frowned. "Um, I've never done it with other people, but I guess I could-"

"Wait a minute!" Anti-Cosmo protested. "Hold the phone! Is no one going to ask if _I'm_ okay with this plan?" No one responded. "All of you? _Inside me_? I-I don't think that's a good idea."

"Do you have a better one?" Foop asked and didn't get a response. "Then, I guess we're going in."

"So, how do we do this, Kitty?" Anti-Wanda asked.

Kitty pursed her lips...er, mouth in thought. "We're gonna have to wait until he falls asleep."

Seriously? Were they _really_ discussing this as though he agreed with it? "Can we _please_ talk this over?"

Foop appeared behind him, brandishing a frying pan. "We already did." He slammed it into his father's head, knocking the man out cold.

As Anti-Cosmo collapsed face-first to the floor, Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I guess that's one way to do it."

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," Foop bragged, poofing away his frying pan.

"Uh, yeah. Back on topic," Kitty said uncomfortably. "Now we just need to enter the core."

Anti-Wanda grinned and slapped her knee in excitement. "Yeehaw! This is gonna be fun on a bun! So, how do we get in there?"

In response, Kitty grabbed both their hands. "Hold on tight. I haven't done this since I was two."

Before either anti-fairy could respond, they felt themselves shrink down. So fast that they didn't have time to register the feeling of their bones crunching and their skin folding and their wings shriveling up. As quickly as they'd shrunk to microscopic size, they felt as if they were on the universe's fastest rollercoaster, plummeting through a tunnel of nausea-inducing heat and more glitter than an anti-fairy should have in his system. Suddenly, the feeling blissfully stopped. Kitty let go of their hands, and both anti-fairies collapsed on all-fours, breathing like they'd just ran ten miles without stopping.

"We're here," Kitty announced. Then, she frowned upon seeing Foop dry heaving and Anti-Wanda's arms give out, her head smacking into the ground. "Um… That'll probably wear off."

After a few moments of vulnerability, the anti-fairies slowly and shakily got to their feet, still a little disoriented. Their discomfort was forgotten the moment they took in their surroundings. Everywhere they turned was a wild tie-dyed background of every color in the known universe. Star-like speckles dotted the area, and the ground looked so much like the sky that you'd be forgiven for thinking that they were floating.

Anti-Wanda pressed her hands to her cheeks in amazement. "It's so _pretty_!"

"I hate to say it," Foop announced, "but this _is_ incredible. Kinda empty, though. Frankly, I was expecting something a little more… Actually, I don't know what I was expecting."

Anti-Wanda lowered her hands and frowned. "It seems so lonely."

"Now, everyone stay close," Kitty warned. "The last thing we need is to get separated."

Foop looked around. "Wouldn't be hard to find each other. There's, like, nothing here."

"True at a first glance," Kitty stated, "but that also means that it won't take long for the contamination to realize we're here."

"It's _alive_?" Anti-Wanda asked incredulously.

Kitty shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be? Anyway, we'll know it's near when-" The tie-dyed backdrop faded to black, and the speckles disappeared, surrounding the three of them in inky darkness. "-that happens."

The temperature dropped significantly, but that wasn't why they were shivering. They could barely see. (Kitty's fur blended in almost completely, so that certainly didn't help.) Then, a green light appeared. No, not a light. A _fire_. A fiery green outline the size and shape of a winged human, like a twisted version of a child's artwork, was flying toward them at full speed.

"Uh, is that normal?" Anti-Wanda asked.

Kitty responded in the form of a panicked, " _Get down_!"

They quickly ducked out of the way of the silhouette, but it turned right around and shot its flames at Foop. The baby screamed in panic, but his mother pushed him out of the way, sending them both toppling unharmed to the ground. Both anti-fairies raised their wand and bottle for a counterattack, but nothing happened.

"Don't waste your time," Kitty warned them. "Corporeal magic's useless in here." Her words were composed, but her face betrayed her terror. "I can get rid of it. I just n-n-need to get c-close…"

Foop scowled at her. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

"I hope so!"

With that, Kitty flew to the contamination, swallowing back bile (or maybe that was a furball) the whole way. The contamination remained stagnant, patient. It lacked eyes, but Kitty felt as if it was staring right through her, as if _she_ were the silhouette. Summoning everything her parents had taught her, she tried to recall the spell that removed contaminations. Concentrating hard, she felt her body lighten, felt the watery sensation of her body morphing into dark violet smoke, and circled the contamination at a speed that she could only achieve in this form. She felt the sting and burn of flames as the contamination tried to defend itself, but she did her best to ignore it and recite the incantation.

" _Noitcifnaf ym fo_

 _Tnemom siht ni_

 _Noisnet eht kaerb ot_

 _Gniht sdrawkcab_ "

Kitty stopped circling and returned to her original form, praying to whoever was listening that she did it right. The flames sizzled and sparked until they exploded in a force that sent Kitty bowling into the anti-fairies. The smoke cleared, the contamination nowhere to be found. The temperature returned to normal, as did the coloring of their surroundings. They all breathed a sigh of relief.

"You did it, Kitty!" Anti-Wanda squeezed her in a tight hug. "You saved my hubby!"

"And, if Father asks," Foop added, "I am taking full credit for this."

But, Kitty wasn't as relieved as they were. "Maybe I'm nitpicking, but does this place still seem darker than it was when we first got here?"

Foop waved off her concern. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"Yeah," Anti-Wanda agreed, releasing her grip. "Let's go see if Cozzie's magic's fixed."

Kitty looked around, still sensing that something was off. But, she supposed the true test would be seeing if Anti-Cosmo's magic was working again. So, she grabbed the two anti-fairies and flew out of the core.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo groaned. He felt like someone had lit a match in his chest. He carefully lifted his head and opened his eyes. He felt for his monocle on the ground and placed it over his bad eye. The last thing he expected to see was his son looking positively green and poofing - _*Sick!*_ \- away, his wife passed out on the floor, and his Spirit Guide with fluffed out fur that smelled vaguely of smoke. It was like looking at the aftermath of that college party his ex-girlfriend had dragged him to in his youth (but that was a story for another time).

He gingerly stood up, anxiety churning his stomach in as his family's physical wellness set in. "What's wrong with them?"

Kitty blinked at him, as though just noticing that he was awake. She glanced at the spot where Foop used to be then at Anti-Wanda's unconscious form. "That'll probably wear off. But, the good news is, I think I got rid of the contamination! Try your wand again."

Anti-Cosmo raised his wand, poofed up a bucket of water, and dumped it over his wife, testing his magic and hoping to wake her.

She bolted upright, muttering, "F-Fire bad."

Anti-Cosmo smiled at his Spirit Guide. "Well done, dear girl. Everything seems to be back in working order. But, next time, _ask_ before you enter my private parts, okay?"

Kitty blushed under her fur. "Heh heh. Yeah…"

Foop reappeared, looking better but still a little flushed. "Okay, the core-thing is cool. But, I _loathe_ traveling through it."

 **The End**

* * *

 **I think I'm gonna do a fun, cheerful episode next, just to give you all a little break from the seriousness. Until then, review!**

 **Oh yeah! I was listening to music on my Ipod and on YouTube (day-off from work equals lots of free time), and I realized that there were a lot of songs that go with this fic and what I have planned for it. Here is a list of, in no particular order, five of those songs. Feel free to analyse their lyrics as you see fit. And, if you do that, I'd like to hear what you come up with, so PM or review your theories, if you don't mind. I'm a curious person! ;)**

 _ **Dark On Me**_ **\- Starset**

 ** _Smoke and Mirrors_ \- Jayn**

 ** _Salvation_ \- Skillet**

 ** _My Immortal_ \- Evanescence**

 ** _Still Here_ \- Digital Daggers**


	20. Tea Party of Terror

**Summary: Foop and his band go on tour and overcome obstacles along the way. In this installment, (parody of _Scooby-Doo_ ) the kids attend a party-turned-mystery, when a ghost kidnaps Anti-Wanda.**

 **Welcome to my little summer mini-series! I promised you all a break in the action, and I think I've fulfilled that promise. This is a five-parter of the Bassinets going on tour and dealing with various wacky things along the way!**

 **Anti-Cosmo and Kitty couldn't go on tour with them, so I'll probably be posting what they've been up to in between parts.**

 **Episodes Required Before Reading:**

 **I'm (Not) in the Band**

* * *

The last day of school couldn't have come sooner. Foop, Anti-Goldie, Brenda, and Bryson - aka, the Bassinets - had even got to play at the end of the year party at school. Everyone agreed that they were getting really good, and the band themselves loved performing more and more every time they did it.

They had just performed their last song of the party, and the crowd cheered loudly. Pride overwhelmed the Bassinets, as they took it all in.

Foop waved at their fans and said, "Thank you! You've been a wonderful audience. We hope to see you all again next year! Except for all you leprechauns. I don't care for your kind."

As they all walked/flew offstage, they were quickly surrounded by the other kids. It was hard to pick out everything they were screaming, but they didn't care. It was scary but cool at the same time. None of them were popular before this band, and it was kind of nice to have their peers actually _want_ to be around them.

Suddenly, everyone - kids and faculty members alike - vanished, and the band stood dumbfounded. Then, a rather smug Anti-Cosmo appeared, and his son face-palmed.

"Father, we were enjoying that!" Foop snapped.

Anti-Goldie held out an arm toward the now-empty room. "Why'd you poof them all away?"

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help the grin curling his lips. "Well, I don't want you kids to be trampled, should any of your admirers hear the news."

"What news?" Bryson asked.

Brenda crossed her arms. "I hope it's worth our _lack of being fawned over_."

"Well, I was going to wait until after school let out," Anti-Cosmo began, "but- Oh, I just couldn't wait any longer! I hope you kids didn't make any plans for the summer, because I managed to pull a few strings - and slip some poison into a few drinks - and get you kids a couple 'gigs,' I think they're called. How would the four of you like to spend your summer vacation _on tour_?"

His response came in the form of four overjoyed children bowling him over in a huge group hug.

* * *

 **Anti-Summer Tour (Part One)**

 **Tea Party of Terror**

Anti-Wanda had called the vehicle she'd poofed up a tour bus. It was kind of small, beat up, and smelled like sweat and dead bugs, so it was more of an RV. Not that anyone cared. Anti-Cosmo couldn't come with them, since it wasn't exactly a good idea for the ruler of Anti-Fairy World to be gone for the whole summer, but he promised to come to the concerts themselves. Kitty wanted to come, but Foop had respectfully (read: threateningly) told her that she would be better off staying at the castle with his father. So, it was just the band, Anti-Wanda, and Vladimir (just because Foop would miss him too much, not that he would ever admit that) going on the tour.

"This RV is amazing!" Bryson exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table in front of him. "I can't believe we're sitting at a table _in a moving vehicle_!"

Anti-Goldie, who was seated beside him, rolled her eyes. "I swear, the littlest things fascinate you."

"Alright, y'all, cool your jets," Anti-Wanda called from the driver's seat. "We's just about here."

Foop appeared next to her, already holding his guitar. "So, what's our first stop, Mother dear? A nightclub? A stadium with a crowd of thousands? A special appearance on a popular TV show?"

"Is it a birthday party?" Bryson asked. " _Please_ tell me it's a birthday party!"

"Actually, it is," Anti-Wanda confirmed.

Bryson cheered, and the others groaned.

"What if I told y'all it was _Anti-Hatter Anti-Maddington's_ birthday party?"

While Foop and Anti-Goldie squealed and high-fived, Brenda and Bryson were just confused. Brenda asked, "What's so special about this Anti-Hatter guy?"

Anti-Goldie answered, "Oh, his parties are legendary in Anti-Fairy World. They have awesome music, the best food ever, and each one has some kind of weird theme. Or, so I'm told. His parties are also super exclusive, so I've never been to one."

"I have!" Foop announced proudly. "Anti-Hatter is friends with my mom and invites me to his parties all the time. And, yes, there _is_ a connection. Nepotism rules!"

Anti-Wanda parked the car. "We're here!" The kids and Vladimir trampled her, sending her toppling out on to the pavement as they raced out of the van. "I'll be on ground, if you need me," she said weakly.

The kids stopped in front of the building and gazed at it in awe. The Anti-Maddington Manor was a lot bigger than they'd expected. With its jet-black paint job and lawn that looked like it hadn't been cared for in centuries, you'd be forgiven for thinking it was haunted. But, Foop knew that it was the _inside_ that was genuinely interesting.

The front door opened, and an anti-fairy stepped onto the porch, cane in hand, even though he didn't need it. He was dressed in a lavender-colored party suit and a huge matching top hat. His navy blue hair looked like it had never been combed before, but his dark red eyes were wide with happiness and, knowing him, probably a little tipsiness. "Oh, The Bassinets have arrived!" he exclaimed in a thick Greek accent. "How utterly delightful!"

"Happy birthday, Anti-Hatter!" Foop greeted warmly, flying into the older anti-fairy's open arms.

Anti-Hatter chuckled and squeezed the toddler tighter. "My, my! Aren't we affectionate today?"

Foop broke the embrace. "I'm just so excited! Your parties are always devine. Oh, let me introduce the band, Brenda, Bryson, and Anti-Goldie."

The girls waved and said simultaneously. "Hi, Mr. Anti-Maddington."

"I hear you have good food," Bryson stated.

"You amuse me, young man." Anti-Hatter stepped aside and pointed his cane to the open door. "Come, children! And, you too shall be amused!"

As the band excitedly rushed into the manor, Anti-Wanda and Vladimir strolled up to Anti-Hatter. Anti-Wanda asked, "So, what kooky theme are ya doing this time, Anti-Hatter?"

Anti-Hatter poofed her into a tie-dye dress and a matching head wrap, her curls now up in an afro. Satisfied with her new wardrobe, he draped an arm over his friend's shoulder and led her inside. "That, Anti-Wanda, is what I wish to speak with you about."

The kids let out excited noises at the interior's decorations. The lighting was dimmed, allowing the huge disco ball on the ceiling to illuminate the room in speckles of silver. Colorful posters, peace signs, and yellow smiley faces were scattered all over the room. The other guests were dressed just as ridiculously. Afros, comically-sized sunglasses, tie-dye, pants with _really_ flared out legs. The entire party looked like a hippie and an indie band had a baby.

"Man, what _is_ this ridiculous theme?" Anti-Goldie voiced their unspoken question.

Anti-Hatter flew up to them. "It's the 1970s, long before you kids were born." He frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Hold on, now. You can't be here, dressed like the twenty-first century." He grinned and poofed them into new clothes. "That's better."

The wardrobe was...bizarre, to say the least. Obviously, the 1970s was a pretty bad time for fashion and decor. Foop was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with jeans and… What the devil was around his neck? Was that an orange scarf? Anti-Goldie wore fake glasses, an orange turtleneck sweater, and a short red skirt, her short hair taken out of its pigtails. Brenda wore a short purple dress with a matching headband and a green scarf, and her pigtails were also gone, her long brown hair now flowing down her back. Bryson had on a green t-shirt and baggy red sweatpants.

Anti-Goldie took one look at them and commented, "Why do I feel like I've this before?"

"Who cares?" Bryson asked. "I'm starving!"

Anti-Hatter laughed. "Help yourselves, children!"

The kids happily ran for the buffet table on the other side of the room, Vladimir right on their tail. Just as they were about to dig in, the lights went out. The guests' startled cries only got more frantic, when the lights turned back on, revealing a creature that was most definitely _not_ there before. Back towards everyone, the human-sized figure wore a flowing black robe that had dark purple smoke billowing out from under it. The figure turned around, revealing that it was _living skeleton_. Its glowing green snake-like eyes only added to its creepiness.

And, then the _voice_ … "Hello, party-goers. I hope you don't plan on staying long!" The smoke beneath him shot through the crowd, enveloped a terrified Anti-Wanda, and returned to its owner.

"MOMMY!" Panic and fury tightened Foop's stomach as he shot a blast from his bottle at the skeleton.

But, the skeleton shot a more powerful blast from his hand, causing an explosion that sent Foop flying into Vladimir, knocking both of them to the ground. Surprisingly, neither was hurt, aside from Foop's potentially bruised rear end. The skeleton threw back its head and laughed as it disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Frightened murmuring broke out among the party guests, and Foop got shakily to his feet. He stared in horror at where the skeleton once was, then glanced over to where his mother had been standing. His horror slowly turned to rage. That thing took his mother! _Nobody_ screwed with the people he loved and lived to tell the tale! Wait, did that skeleton qualify as being alive? Oh, whatever!

Anti-Hatter was grinning ear-to-ear, like this was somehow _fun_. Foop wanted to rip that smile right off his face, but then the older anti-fairy said, "Well, gang, it looks like we have a mystery on our hands! For, you see, the _real_ theme of this party is mystery!" Some guests sighed in relief, some rolled their eyes, others let out nervous laughs. "You may work in groups or on your own. Whichever you prefer. Now, let's see if we can find Anti-Wanda and figure out who that ghost really is!"

"So, my mom's not really in danger?" Foop asked hopefully.

Anti-Hatter patted his square head. "Of course not, child." He leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. "I won't tell you who the culprit is, but I will say that he or she has absolutely no intention of harming your mother."

Momentarily pacified, Foop turned to his fellow Bassinets and Vladimir. "Well, you all heard the birthday boy. It looks like we have a mystery on our hands."

"Still finding this familiar," Anti-Goldie commented.

Foop ignored her. "Let's split up, gang. Brenda, Anti-Goldie, you two are with me on this floor. Bryson, you take Vladimir and search for clues upstairs."

"What?" Bryson protested. "You want me wander around a haunted mansion with a vampig that can't even kill a dead fly? Like, no way, man."

Brenda slyly grabbed something off the buffet table and held temptingly in front of her brother. "Would you do it for beef jerky?"

Bryson angrily snatched the jerky from her grasp. "Curse my love of dried meats!"

* * *

"I gotta admit, Vladimir," Bryson said, as he and the vampig walked through the hallway, "the jerky was pretty good. But, I'm still hungry. How 'bout you?" Vladimir oinked in response. "Man, I wish you could talk, like those animal sidekicks on cartoons." Then, he spotted a certain room and walked inside. "Hey, I found the kitchen!" Squealing in excitement, Vladimir followed. "Well, Anti-Hatter _did_ tell us to help ourselves. To the refrigerator!" He bolted to the fridge and threw the door open, salivating at the sight of all the gourmet foods and drinks. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Oh, man. This is way better than raiding the fridge at Foop's house. Anti-Cosmo's not here to tell to ask before I eat or to stop letting out all the cold!"

He flinched at the sudden sound of Vladimir squealing nonstop behind him. He laughed, still facing the assortment of foods. "You must be hungrier than I thought. Don't worry, pal. You'll have something to eat just as soon as I can remember what vampigs eat."

"You should ask before you eat, young man."

A chill ran down Bryson's spine, like someone had poured a bucket of ice down his back. "Vladimir's squealing in terror, isn't he?" He reluctantly turned around to find the ghost standing directly behind him.

"Close the door, child," the ghost demanded in that same creepy monotone. "You're letting out all the cold."

Bryson slammed the door shut, and he and Vladimir ran screaming out of the room. On the way down the hall, Bryson accidentally knocked over a radio that had been randomly sitting on a small table. He scowled at it. "Oh, _fantastic_. I bumped into a radio, and it's stuck on the Groovy 70s Chase Music Station. I'm changing it to something current!" The ghost growled into his face, his breath smelling surprisingly minty for a dead guy. "Okay, I'll leave it on!" He continued running away, screaming.

* * *

Meanwhile, Foop, Brenda, and Anti-Goldie were searching the bedroom. Well, the girls were searching. Foop was a little distracted.

"You know, Brenda," he said, "that dress really looks good on your legs." He realized what he said, and a furious blush crept over his face. "I-I mean, you look good in purple."

Brenda smiled. "Thanks, Foop."

"Jinkies!" Anti-Goldie exclaimed from the bedside. "I think I found something!" Her friends crowded around her and examined tiny hairs that she had found on the bed.

Brenda picked some up and narrowed her eyes in thought. "Jeepers! Little black hairs. Do we know anyone with hair like this?"

Anti-Goldie shrugged. "I have black hair, but those are _way_ too short to be mine."

"I barely have any hair to begin with," Foop stated. A muffled sound drew their attention to the closet. "Guys, I don't think we're alone. Who wants to open the door?" The girls pushed Foop in front of the closet. He glared at them. "Cowards." Swallowing his own anxiety, he opened the closet. Relief blossomed in his heart, upon finding his mother inside. She was bound and gagged, and she looked she had just been through some sort of struggle, but she was okay. "Mommy! You're alright!" He poofed away the ropes around her hands and ankles and the wrap over mouth.

"'Course I am, sweetie," Anti-Wanda assured.

Foop knew that Anti-Hatter wouldn't hurt her, but the sight of her being stolen away had left him with a feeling he never wanted to feel again. He flew into her open arms, breathing in her familiar scent. Wait a minute. There was another scent mixed with her own. It kind of smelled like-

A girly scream interrupted his thoughts. Brenda wondered aloud, "Was that my brother screaming in terror?"

Suddenly, a squealing Vladimir bolted into the room and leaped on top of Foop, who struggled under his weight. "Get…him... _off of me_ …"

Anti-Wanda rolled Vladimir off her son, who floated upright and took several gulps of air. Bryson ran into the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Bryson, what happened?" Brenda asked.

Still terrified out of his mind, Bryson ranted, "I-I was raiding the fridge, and-and the ghost! The chase music! And-And we ran through a bunch of doors! And, I think Kitty made a random cameo while we were running through the doors! And-And-"

Having heard enough, Foop covered Bryson's mouth with his hands. "We get it, man." He turned to the others. "Alright, gang. We know that the ghost is probably still looking for Bryson and Vladimir. Which means, it's time to set a trap. Bryson, you and Vladimir will be the bait."

" _No_!" Bryson snapped. "I am _not_ getting chased by that ghost again!"

Brenda silently offered him another piece of jerky.

"Come on, Vladimir. Let's go get chased by that ghost again." Grabbing the jerky, he lamented, "Why must jerky be so delicious!?"

* * *

Bryson and Vladimir walked down the hallway, the former calling out, "Yoo-hoo? Mr. Ghost? Where are you? We're not trying to lead you into a trap or anything." Purple smoke appeared in front of them, and the ghost materialized from it and flew after them. "Now!"

Brenda, giant butterfly net in hand, leaped out of a room, and threw the net over the ghost, trapping him inside.

A very annoyed Foop appeared next to her. "Hey, that's not the trap we discussed! _My_ trap involved a fishing net, three yards of barbed wire, and string cheese!"

"This is less complicated," Brenda deadpanned. Then, she noticed the "ghost" struggling under the butterfly net. "Hey, if he's a ghost, how is the butterfly net working on him?"

Anti-Goldie poofed beside the net. "Because, he's _not_ a ghost." She pulled off the net. "He's actually…" She pulled off his mask, and everyone gasped.

" _Anti-Cosmo_!?"

As Anti-Cosmo smirked and poofed away the rest of his disguise, the purple smoke materialized to reveal Kitty (the obvious source of the short black _fur_ they had found), who waved and said, "And, me. I'm here, too."

"I _thought_ Mother smelled like your cologne," Foop told his father. "But, why would you do this?"

"Because, dear boy," Anti-Cosmo explained, "Anti-Hatter paid Kitty and I 667 dollars each to be the monster at his weird little party. We were going to see your concert anyway, so we figured, what the heck?"

"Sorry if we scared you too much," Kitty apologized.

Bryson laughed. "I wasn't scared at all."

Anti-Wanda and Anti-Hatter poofed behind him, and he yelped ("Zoinks!") and leaped into his sister's arms, her now holding him bridal style. Anti-Hatter clapped his hands. "Bravo, children! You've solved the mystery!"

Anti-Wanda gave a thumbs-up. "Nice work, y'all!"

Brenda let her twin drop to the ground and said to Anti-Wanda, "You were in on this the whole time, weren't you?"

"Sure was!"

"Rooby, rooby, roo!" Kitty bellowed randomly.

Anti-Cosmo frowned in confusion. "What the devil does that mean?"

Kitty coughed harshly and hacked up a hairball on the floor. "It means I was choking on a hairball."

"Seriously, where have I seen this before?" Anti-Goldie wondered.

"Well, this has been fun," Anti-Hatter said, poofing away the hairball, "but I believe you kids have yet to perform. Why don't you all go do that now?"

The band cheered, then Foop remembered something. "Wait. There's still something I don't understand. Mother, why did you smell like Father's cologne? I know he was the one who kidnapped you, but you smelled rather strongly of him. Almost as if you two had been alone in the closet for quite some time."

Both of his parents blushed furiously (guess he could blame both of them his frequent facial activities) and stammered, "Um...um…"

It slowly dawned on him, and, like his genetics seemed to always be forcing his face to do, his cheeks darkened to a purple the matched the shade on his parents' faces. "I _don't_ want to know."

 **The End**

* * *

 **So, what do you think? I was gonna put in a song, but...I got kinda lazy. :P Oh, well. Review!**


	21. Seperation Anxiety

**Summary: A glimpse into Anti-Cosmo's childhood reveals that he wasn't always the bold and cunning leader well known today.**

 **Remember when I said that I would be showing what Anti-Cosmo and Kitty are up to, while the Bassinets are on tour? Well, I'm doing that now! Just to forewarn you, these episodes are going to be much darker. The band stuff is more or less a reprieve from the story arc. Also, it just donned on me that this episode has very little humor. If any at all. Certain parts you might funny. Either way, this one starts out pretty serious and then gets really, really fluffy toward the end.**

 **Oh, yeah! Partial credit goes to FountainPenguin, whose depiction of Anti-Cosmo (story: "130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash" prompt: Not All the Same) kind of inspired my depiction of Anti-Cosmo, and it does kind of fit in with what I have planned. Basically, I have a lot of hell planned for him, because I'm a terrible person! XD**

 **Trigger Warning: Panic attacks**

 **Episode Required Before Reading:** **Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

 **Separation Anxiety**

" _Make me a promise that time won't erase us, that we were not lost from the start." -_ _Still Here_ , Digital Daggers

 _Roughly ten thousand years ago…_

"Dude, stop eavesdropping, and let's play some Scrabble. You love words that no one else in the room knows."

His big brother wasn't technically correct. It wasn't that Anti-Cosmo loved the words. It was more that he was smarter than most people and didn't even realize it until his own father had asked him what "circumlocution" was (an attempt at evasiveness using excessively long-winded phraseology, _duh_ ). Moreover, the anti-toddler just...couldn't really stop himself from using words with more than three syllables. He was getting better at using smaller words, but…

Anti-Schnozmo's nasally voice brought him back to the present. "Come on, AC." He gestured to the board on the floor, the familiar alphabet tiles spread haphazardly around it. "Scrabble. Words that no one knows. Poofing up dictionaries to prove that those words really exist. Come on. You love beating me at this game."

Ah, a true statement at last. But, Anti-Cosmo knew that he wouldn't be able to focus due to his two-year-old attention span.

That, and the fact that his and Anti-Schnozmo's mother had paid an unexpected visit to the castle. The boys' parents had been divorced for a few months now, so neither really understood what the woman was doing here. One thing was certain: Their father had locked them in their shared bedroom, under strict orders to stay there until he came to get them, and there was _definitely_ a reason.

Hence why Anti-Cosmo ignored his brother's urgings and continued pressing his ear against the door in a desperate attempt to hear their parents.

"Seriously, I don't think you should be-"

"Hush, dear brother," Anti-Cosmo hissed.

"I'm just worried about… You know. You have that...thing."

Thing? Oh. _Ugh_. Readjusting his glasses, Anti-Cosmo turned to face his concerned sibling. "Anti-Schnozmo, we've been over this. I don't have 'anxiety problems.' And, anyway, _assuming_ these problems even exist - which they do _not_ \- the doctor says I'll grow out of them. Barring any unforeseen childhood trauma or something, but what are the odds of that?"

" _Where in the name of Beelzebub do you think you're going?_ "

That was their father's voice, and it was close and not happy. The boys froze and stared nervously at the door.

" _I'm saving my son from that green-eyed reject!_ "

That was their mother. Anti-Cosmo could tell mostly because of them term "green-eyed reject." It hurt every time she said it. He couldn't help that the eyes of himself and his counterpart were the same!

The door suddenly exploded, sending shards of black wood showering over the boys. Their mother flew into the room, her expression completely blank, as she ignored her ex-husband's cry of, "Did you just _blow up the door_?"

"Anti-Schnozmo, darling," she stated firmly. "It's time I got you away from this... _virus_."

Anti-Schnozmo flew protectively in front of his younger sibling. "What virus? Everything's fine!"

Their father grabbed their mother by her shoulders and tried to yank her out of the room. "Anti-Bethany, let's _discuss_ this away from the boys." The way he said "discuss" heavily implied that he wasn't afraid to physically destroy her.

Mom wriggled out of his grip. "Anti-Schnozmo, you're coming home!"

Anti-Schnozmo gritted his teeth. "I _am_ home!"

"I mean, I'm taking you away from this _creature_ you dare to call a _brother_."

Anti-Cosmo didn't miss the way his father's ruby-red eyes changed to glowing red snake eyes. He was definitely on the verge of non-corporeal magic, and it was never pretty when that happened. "Don't speak that way about your own son!"

Mom made a sound that was between a scoff and a gag. "That thing is not my son! I've known it since the moment he was born." Her red eyes, so dark that they were almost black, narrowed dangerously at her trembling green-eyed son. "I see it in your eyes, you parasite. There's something seriously wrong with you. Something evil. I don't know what you are, but you-"

Dad grabbed her by the arm, and she cried out in pain. Anti-Cosmo could smell the burning of flesh, as his father used some kind of fire spell or something. Dad let go of her, leaving a hand-shaped brand on her arm. "I think we should continue this discussion away from the boys. This is _not_ a suggestion, Anti-Bethany."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know my Anti-Schnozmo is safe from that monstrosity!"

Before anyone had time to react, Mom sent a blast from her wand that sent Anti-Cosmo slamming against the wall. The feeling was too painful for words, and the toddler knew a lot of words. Dropping face-first from the wall to the floor didn't help. He forced his head to lift up and tried to see what was happening. Suddenly, he wished that the blast had knocked him unconscious. His glasses were broken, and everything was a big, colorful blur, but he could kind of tell what was going on. Dad was trying to force Mom out of the room, for he never liked his sons to see him at his full power, mostly because it was often accompanied by rage, and he couldn't always control himself when he was particularly angry. But, Mom wouldn't have it, as she had taken hold of a struggling Anti-Schnozmo and refused to let go and kept saying that "that monster should be destroyed!"

Then, Anti-Cosmo's shaking became worse, and sweat beaded on his face. Everything was falling apart. _He_ was falling apart. Something was wrong with him. His chest hurt and his heart was pounding and he couldn't breathe and _what was happening to him was he sick was he dying did his mother's magic do this why couldn't he think straight why was everything spinning so much?_

The toddler was too invested in his own distress to know that his eyes had turned into green snake eyes. He could see objects moving, but without his glasses, he had no idea what was actually going on. His panic kept him from noticing the raw magic radiating from him, how it sent every inanimate object in the room into the air and swirling like the twister from _The Wizard of Oz_.

* * *

I feel it. All of his horror, his confusion. I feel all of it, and it sends me in a frenzy. He needs me, but I am trapped in this miserable realm. I have felt him since the moment he was born. I knew… I knew it was him. And, now he is in pain, and I cannot help him! I pull my hair and scream and bang on the walls of my prison, as my mind fogs over with fear and worry. I call for him, I curse the ones who trapped me here, but all I am doing is frightening the other prisoners with my cries. I hope with every fiber of my being that he can hear me, that he knows I am here and that he knows that he is not alone, that he was never alone and never will be alone.

But, I know that he does not remember me, and that thought shifts my fury into sorrow, and I fall to my knees, sobbing.

* * *

 _Present time..._

Anti-Cosmo shot up in bed. His heart was running at a million miles per hour, and he was drenched in sweat. Where was he? A small, nervous voice spoke his name, and something gently landed on his shoulder. He jolted away in panic and turned to see an unfamiliar black-furred creature kneeling beside him.

It seemed almost as frightened as he was. "It-It's okay. It's just me, Kitty. Your Spirit Guide."

Spirit Guide? Yes. Yes, he remembered her now. He reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for his monocle. He shakily put it on and surveyed his surroundings. He finally recognized his bedroom. He was home. He was safe.

Wait, the bed was too empty. Something else was wrong. "A-Anti-Wanda?" he squeaked, frantically searching the room. "Anti-Wanda?"

"She's on tour with Foop and his friends, remember?" Kitty asked gently.

Oh, right. His memories were slowly coming back to him, but they did nothing to calm his pulse.

Kitty's green eyes were filled with worry and sympathy. "Have your night terrors always been this frequent?"

"Not since recently," he answered, placing a hand over his heart, as though that might somehow slow it's erratic beating. Anti-Cosmo was no stranger to night terrors, but they used to be few and far between. This was his second one this month, and he'd had others not long before the summer started.

Kitty cautiously inched closer to him. "Do you remember what it was about?"

Anti-Cosmo forced himself to think it over. He remembered an anti-fairy baby and someone wanting to help it… "I think… Um, it may have been about Foop. I-I think something happened to him."

Kitty nodded. "Wait here." She morphed into a purple smoke cloud and flew out of the room. Less than a second later, she returned, shifting back into cat-form and handing him his cellphone. "Why don't you call him? That way you'll know if he's okay."

Come to think of it, _was_ Foop okay? What if that dream was some kind of warning? Anti-Cosmo immediately pushed the thought aside. He was an anti-fairy, not a prophet. Still, the parental fear was on his mind now… He sighed. "Kitalianna, it's the middle of the night."

Kitty just shrugged and shoved the phone into his clammy hands. Anxiety won over reason (and sanity but mostly reason), and Anti-Cosmo dialed his son. Each ring made him more nervous, but just when he was convinced that something was wrong, his son picked up.

" _What?_ " said the groggy voice.

Anti-Cosmo felt both relieved and guilty. "Uh, it's Dad. Sorry to wake you, dear boy."

" _What?_ " Foop repeated in the same annoyed tone.

"I just…" Now, how to phrase this in a way that did not sound pathetic? He sighed, deciding that such a way most likely did not exist. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

There was pause on the other end, the only sound being the quiet creak of what was probably a bed. " _Another night terror?_ "

Anti-Cosmo nodded then remembered that his son couldn't see him. "I'm afraid so. I think something happened to you in it, so..." He forced out a small chuckle. "How paranoid am I, right?"

Foop yawned. " _Hang on._ " To Anti-Cosmo's surprise, he hung up the phone and poofed in front of his father on the bed. Still clad in his skull-print pajamas and clutching Skull Beary - the plush skeletal bear that Anti-Cosmo had passed down to him - in one hand and his bottle in the other, the boy looked irritated, which he probably was, but concerned at the same time, in that way that only he could manage. "Look, Dad. I'm here. I'm alive. Nothing bad happened to me. I'm fine."

Anti-Cosmo smiled slightly, finally starting to relax a little and noticing that Kitty was leaving to give them some privacy. "What about your mother?"

"She's fine, too. I would have brought her, but, as you know, the woman can sleep through a nuclear war." Anti-Cosmo smiled wider at the very true statement. Foop suddenly seemed uncomfortable, as he dropped his bottle in favor of hugging Skull Beary to his chest. "Do you, uh… You know… Do you, like, want me to spend the night, or anything…?" Anti-Cosmo started at the suggestion. "I mean, it's not like _I_ want to. I-It would be entirely for _your_ benefit. I mean, it's clear that you need me, and you're not gonna feel better unless- Uh, you know what? Forget it. It's a dumb idea. I'll just poof back to-"

"No, no, dear boy," Anti-Cosmo interjected. The weight in his chest was completely gone now. He patted the space beside him. "I don't mind at all. But, we should probably poof up a note saying where you are. Just in case the others wake up before you do."

Foop smiled. He picked up his bottle, and its nipple glowed as he did just that. Then, he dropped the bottle again, crawled to his father's side and, once again pleasantly surprising him, snuggled into his chest, Skull Beary squished between them. "We can share Skull Beary tonight. Or, not. Whatever makes you stop whining faster. I-I don't particularly care." Heart swelling with affection, Anti-Cosmo wrapped his arm around his only son and held him close. "Just...don't tell anyone about this. I'll lose my street cred."

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help an eye roll at that. "Understood, dear boy. Kitty, I know you're watching us." The guilty Spirit Guide froze from where she was peering in through the doorway. "You can sleep in here too, if you like." He thought he felt Foop tense up but decided that it was his own imagination.

"I-I don't want to intrude," Kitty said bashfully.

"Nonsense, dear girl. We don't mind at all, do we, Foop?"

Foop pressed his face into his plush toy's head, hiding his expression. "Whatever gets me to sleep quicker," was his muffled response.

Anti-Cosmo briefly wondered about the boy's sudden change in attitude but chalked it up to the fact that, well, he _had_ woken the boy up at around midnight. "Come on, dear girl. I want to sleep with my favorite kids tonight." Smiling, Kitty flew to Anti-Cosmo's other side and curled up beside him. He rolled on to his back and wrapped an arm around both children. Foop grunted and scowled deeper. Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow at his son. "Something wrong?"

Foop yawned. "Just don't wake me up again."

"I'll take that as a 'goodnight,'" Anti-Cosmo responded good-naturedly.

Kitty giggled sleepily. "Night, night."

All three of them had pleasant dreams that night.

" _When I awake, you disappear back to the shadows with all I hold dear."- Still Here_ , Digital Daggers

 **The End**

* * *

 **I did research on panic attacks and night terrors, and I hope they turned out accurate. Anti-Cosmo having them may or may not seem OOC, but canon doesn't really give us anything about his personal life, so I feel justified. Besides, it ties into the story arc. I regret nothing. Review!**


	22. The Good, the Bad, and the Beastly

**Summary:** **(Crossover with "Bunsen is a Beast")The kids' concert in Muckledunk goes south, when a girl tries to sabotage the concert, and Foop can't stop arguing with one the locals.**

 **If you haven't seen Butch Hartman's new series, you're missing out. Hopefully, this installment of the Anti-Summer Tour will make you want to give it a chance.**

* * *

"Where the heck were you?" Anti-Goldie asked the moment Foop poofed back to the RV in the morning.

Foop frowned. "Uh, I left a note, didn't I?"

Brenda held the note up for him to see. "All you wrote was 'Doing something important. Be back whenever.'"

Foop crossed his arms and scowled. There was no way in the Hocus Poconos that he was going to tell them where he'd really been. "I don't tell you how to live _your_ life."

"He has a point," a new voice said. Everyone jumped back in shock, when a human girl with lavender-colored braids popped her head out of Brenda's duffle bag. "It's not nice to question people's life choices."

The magical creatures just glanced at one another, all wondering the exact same thing. Brenda was the first to say it aloud. "I'm sorry; _who are you, and why are you in my stuff_?"

The human stepped out of the duffel bag, shaking Brenda's training bra off her foot. "My name's Darcy. I'm your biggest fan!"

"Okay…" the kids drawled, still trying to figure why she was in the RV.

"But, how can y'all have a human fan?" Anti-Wanda asked them. "Today's your first time playing for humans."

Darcy bent over and pulled a CD out of Brenda's duffel bag. "My friend, Bunsen, is a beast. I've snuck into his house before and listened to his BeastPod, and he has a bunch of your songs on it. So, I took his BeastPod back to my house and burned the songs on this CD. It wasn't my CD, but I put the songs on it, so it's mine now!"

Brenda pointed to the mint green nightgown that the strange human was wearing. "Is that my nightgown?"

"Yeah. I was sweating like a pig in that bag, so I changed into something cooler. Your nightgown was really long on me so I cut it with some scissors that weren't mine and now the length is perfect." Darcy frowned. "Why? Do you want it back?"

Brenda shook her head and deadpanned, "No, you can keep it."

Darcy grinned and ran for the door. "Come on, guys! You're in my hometown of Muckledunk, now! I can totally show you around!"

She ran outside, still wearing Brenda's nightgown, and Bryson commented, "Is it me, or is that girl attractive? Like, _really_ attractive?"

Everyone else slowly backed away from him.

* * *

 **Anti-Summer Tour (Part Two)**

 **The Good, the Bad, and the Beastly**

Bunsen the Beast was so excited, he could barely restrain the confetti cannon in his head. Today marked his first anniversary of living in Muckledunk. Since he and his parents were the first beasts to live in a human town, the townsfolk were throwing a party just for them! And, even better, his best friend and first ever human friend, Mikey Munroe, said that he had something extra special planned for Bunsen! The thought alone made the little beast unable to hold back any longer, and confetti shot out of his head spout, littering the concrete beneath him.

He was standing in front of a stage that was used for things like parties and town meetings and such. But, today it was for him, his parents, and by extension, all of beastkind! The entire town had showed up, including the handful of beasts who had moved in after seeing how well Bunsen and his family were doing. Even his nemesis, Amanda Killman, had showed up! Of course, she was hiding in the bushes, glaring daggers and baring her braces at everyone, so he probably should have been worried that she was plotting something.

"Bunsen! Over here!" But, then Mikey ran up to him and gave him a hug, and Amanda became the furthest thing from his mind. "Happy anniversary, buddy!"

Bunsen wrapped his arms around the human boy, popping out four extra arms for extra hugging prowess, and squealed, more confetti exploding from his head spout. " _So happy_!"

Mikey laughed and brushed the colorful flakes from his red curls as Bunsen retracted his four extra arms. "Man, I can't believe you've been in Muckledunk for a whole year! It feels like it's only been a season."

"Well, _I_ feel like it's been _ten_ seasons, and this show's cancellation is long overdue!" Amanda called from her place in the bushes, her lisp and spitting problem as forceful as ever.

The boys ignored her. "So, what is my surprise, Mikey?" Bunsen asked, grinning from ear to ear (if he had ears).

Mikey actually did have ears, so the analogy worked for him. "I'll tell you what it is. It's greatest, most amazing surprise in the history of everything!" Just as Bunsen's head spout was about to go off again, Mikey said, "But, you can't have it, yet."

Bunsen deflated. "Why not?"

"'Cause it's not here, yet."

"Is it here, now?"

"Nope."

"Is it here, _now_?"

Mikey smirked. "Do you wanna ruin the surprise?"

"I _do_!"

Mikey chuckled and checked his watch. "Well, it should be here any time, now."

Bunsen waited. And, waited. And...waited. "I am too excited to wait, Mikey!"

Then, their socially odd friend, Darcy, ran up to them. "Hey, guys! You'll never guess where I've been for the whole beginning of summer." Not giving them time to answer, she exclaimed, "I was hiding out on Bassinets' tour RV!"

"Wait a minute." A triangular anti-fairy girl said, as she and her four friends came up to them- Wait...Bunsen knew who they were… "You were in the RV for our entire tour?" Anti-Goldie asked Darcy incredulously. "But-But, you're a human. We weren't on Earth, so how- And, you- But- You know what? This is probably one of those things you _don't_ want an answer to."

"Hey, you're the Bassinets, my favorite band!" Bunsen exclaimed.

"That's your surprise, Bunsen!" Mikey told him. "Before school let out, I met this blue guy who was a fairy or maybe a beast or some kind of cross-breed, I don't know. But, he'd come here to study beasts, so I told him about the anniversary party. Turns out, he was the lead singer's dad, and he was booking gigs for the Bassinets, and here they are!"

"So. Very. _Happy_!" Bunsen's head spout released so much confetti, he was surprised he didn't pull something.

Foop raised his bottle and poofed it all away. "Hm. I didn't realize 'super fans' meant 'super _psycho_ fans.'"

* * *

Meanwhile, Amanda growled at the sight before her. It was bad enough that the town was celebrating beasts. Now, the _band_ was made up of creatures? Oh, no! She would _not_ stand for that! But, how to go about stopping them from playing? She _thought_ two of them were vampires, but she didn't know anything about the blue creatures.

But, she knew someone who might. Someone she'd met at Creature Haters' Con She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed the number.

Her friend answered after a few rings. " _Unless you're a telemarketer or politician, start talking."_

"Hey, Mary Alice," Amanda greeted. "It's me, Amanda Killman. Remember me?"

" _Oh, yeah. You're that spitting girl I met at Creature Haters' Con."_

" _Creatures are different. Different is bad. Eliminate creatures, and you'll be so glad!_ " Amanda sang.

" _...I'm familiar with the jingle. I was_ there _."_

"I know, but it's such a catchy tune. But, I'm not calling to sing."

" _Well, then can you get to the point? Or, maybe text me instead? Somehow, your spit is flying through the phone."_

Amanda paused at the bizarre comment. "How is that even possible? Nevermind. I need information on some creatures I want to take down. I recognize two of them as vampires." A pig with...bat wings ran past her. "And, apparently there's a vampire-pig-creature. Oddly enough, not the weirdest thing I've ever seen, considering that I once conversed with a sentient tooth. Anyway, I already know how to deal with vampires, but there are some creatures here I _don't_ recognize. They look kind of like fairies, except they're blue and have bat wings. Oh, and one of them is holding a black wand. I don't know if that part's important, but I thought I'd mention it."

" _The creatures you're describing are anti-fairies. They're the opposite counterparts of fairies and, fortunately, have quite a few weaknesses. Let's see… Their magic doesn't work under a butterfly net. Iron physically burns them. Stainless steel might have the same effect, but that's just a theory of mine. They cannot resist causing bad luck. Nor, can they resist chicken cordon bleu-"_

"Eh, that seems like a lot of stuff…" Amanda commented, having already forgotten...all of that. "Why don't you just text me the details?"

A sigh was heard on the other end. " _Whatever. I gotta go. I just finished striking a deal with some leprechauns, and I need to be ready for if they actually follow through with it."_

"But, we hate creatures. Aren't leprechauns included in that category?"

"Hey, I'm allowed to use them to my benefit."

"...I could learn so much from you, Ms. Doombringer."

* * *

"Ah, come on! _Please_ grant my wishes! At least one!"

It was bad enough when Mikey followed the band backstage without permission. Now, he was begging them to grant wishes like their friend, Cosmo, and his wife? It wouldn't have been so bad if the band members were Fairy GodParents. But, like they kept trying to tell Mikey, they were not the kind of fairies who granted wishes.

Bunsen loved Mikey like a brother, but the human wasn't always the best listener.

Foop sighed as he poofed the band's instruments into place. Then, he whirled on Mikey. "Because you're obviously stupid, I'm going to say this slowly. We. Do not. Grant. Wishes, you pathetic toad!"

Mikey's eyes started to water. Anti-Wanda noticed this and scoffed. "Cry us a river, Mikey. We ain't granting you nothing."

"Yeah," Anti-Goldie agreed haughtily. "Do you honestly think we're gonna go for your little act? Man up, man."

Mikey blinked away his tears and glared at them. Bunsen decided that now was probably a good time to change the subject. "Uh, you know, I think I saw Commander Cone out there with his ice cream stand. Why don't we all-"

"Ice cream!" Bryson cheered, running off the stage. "I'm gonna buy some for that pretty Darcy girl!"

Brenda shook her head and ran after her brother. "Bryson, you don't even have any money."

"Bunsen," Mikey stated after a moment, "I hate to break it to you, but your favorite band is made up of jerks."

Foop held up his bottle threateningly. "Oh, you don't know just how jerky I can be."

* * *

"Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!" Bryson merrily ran up to the ice cream stand, his exasperated sister coming up behind him.

"Hello… children, who may or may not be vampires," said the rather depressed-looking ice cream man. "I'm Commander Cone, your guide to the yum-tastic world of ice cream. Why do they make me say that? It is _so lame in so many ways_!"

Bryson ignored the outburst. "Two ice cream cones, please. Flavor is dealer's choice. Wait. Sister, do you want one? I was gonna buy one for me and Darcy, but you can have one too, if you want."

"First of all," Brenda said pulling a few dollars out of her pocket, "you don't have any money. Second, you're paying me back for this. Third, yes, I would like some ice cream. And, fourth, don't you think Darcy's a little...totally bonkers? I mean, look at her over there." She pointed to where Darcy was playing a banjo and doing some really weird dance moves. "Do you really wanna date a mentally unstable person?"

"Well, I wanted to date Foop until I met Darcy."

"This is true."

"What can I say? I have a type." Bryson grabbed Brenda's money and turned back to Commander Cone. "Three ice cream cones, please."

With a sigh, Commander Cone took the money and starting scooping the ice cream. As he handed it to the Xye, he deadpanned, "I hope your tastebuds enjoy this delicious thrill ride of a lifetime. It's like I'm in a bad _fanfiction_!"

"Thank you," Bryson said, handing his sister one of the two light brown ice creams and holding up the strawberry one. "I gonna give this one to Darcy. 'Cause, it's different, and she's different. But, like, a good different."

Brenda sighed, licked her ice cream, and immediately gagged. "This tastes like garlic! Who makes garlic-flavored ice cream?"

Bryson, however, was happily licking his own ice cream. "Only geniuses! This is delicious!"

"I didn't know what the flavor was," Commander Cone informed. "All I know is that a creepy spitting girl gave me sixty-six dollars to give you two those cones. And, I need all the money I can get right now, because my life _sucks_! My dad was totally right. I should have finished law school, but _no_. I _had_ to pursue my dream of being an artist! _Look where that got me_!"

* * *

Amanda giggled maliciously as she crept away from one of the concession stands, a salt shaker gripped tightly in her fist. She glanced up at a tree, spotting her assistant, Beverly, crouched on one of the branches, butterfly net in hand. The plump preschooler gave her a thumbs-up, and Amanda dropped the salt shaker. "Oh dear," she said in mock horror, "I've spilled my salt. I sure hope no anti-fairies find out and try to give me bad luck."

* * *

Bunsen stood in between Mikey and Foop, who were growling at each other like smeep (which are like sheep, but they hide under your bed with a knife and fork). The beast had popped out four extra arms and had three hands pressed against the latter boys' chests, trying to keep them from maiming each other. "Now, now, you two," he said nervously. "Let's not let tempers flare. This is a happy day. Let's not ruin it with violence."

"Violence makes everything better!" Anti-Goldie exclaimed. She and Anti-Wanda were sitting on the floor, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching with interest.

Anti-Wanda swallowed her mouthful. "My money's on Foop."

"You don't want to grant my wishes? Fine!" Mikey snapped at Foop. "But, you don't have to be so mean about it!"

" _I'm_ mean?" Foop retorted. "You tried to sway me with big sad eyes! You're a manipulative con artist. I'd probably like you, if you weren't so annoying!"

"Why, I oughta-"

"No, I oughta!"

"No, _I_ oughta!"

"No, _I_ -"

"Hold that oughta!" Anti-Wanda grinned. "I just got a chill. I smell bad luck nearby."

Anti-Goldie sniffed the air. "Oh, smells like spilled salt."

Foop growled and told Mikey, "This isn't over, _no-neck_!"

"Oh, it's far from over, uh, square guy!" Mikey snarled.

"Square guy? Really?"

"I'm not good at name-calling, okay?"

* * *

The three anti-fairies appeared behind Amanda, who screamed, " _Now, Beverly_!" Beverly leaped out of the tree and threw the butterfly net over the three startled anti-fairies. Amanda cackled. "I honestly didn't think that would work. Beverly, take these three to my house. Lock them in my room, and I'll deal with them once the vampires are taken care of."

"Oh, no!" The square one exclaimed. "What are you going to do my piggy, you human water fountain?"

"Yeah, I don't really care about pigs so much as taking down your vampire friends."

The triangle blinked. "Is she talking about Brenda and Bryson?"

"Uh, little spitting girl," the one with the bad teeth said, "the twins ain't-"

"I don't have time for this," Amanda interrupted. "Remove them from my sight, Beverly!"

"Yes, Miss Killman," Beverly said.

"Wait!" Anti-Wanda protested as Beverly carried them away. "We still have to give her bad luck!"

Amanda's enjoyment was short-lived, when she spotted one of the "vampires" happily eating the garlic ice cream. "Are you serious!?" She angrily ran up to him. "How are you eating that? Vampires are supposed to be allergic to garlic."

"They are," he said, taking another lick. "But, we're demons, not vampires."

Brenda spotted Beverly nearby with the butterfly and bared her teeth. "You! With the glasses! Drop that net!"

Beverly turned to face her. "I'd love to, but my boss, Miss Amanda Killman," she said, pointing to her "boss," "told me to take these blue things to her house and lock them up." Brenda roared, which sounded a lot like a rabid lion, and Beverly screamed, dropped the net, and ran for her life.

Brenda lifted the net off her friends and tossed it aside. The four of them made their way back to Bryson and a dumb-struck Amanda, glaring at the latter.

Amanda laughed nervously. "You know, one day we're all gonna look back on this and laugh."

"What's going on?" Mikey asked as he and Bunsen walked over to see what the commotion was about. "Amanda, did you do something?"

Foop poofed up his Skullphone. "All you need to know is that Sir Spits-a-Lot is about to get what's coming to her." He dialed a number and waited for an answer. "Hey, Dad, are you busy? I was hoping you could torture a blond girl for me. I'm pretty sure she was trying to destroy me, Mom, and the guys."

Anti-Cosmo appeared beside him. "You had me at 'torture a blond girl.'"

Mikey grinned at him. "Grant my every wish!"

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "Oh, for badness sake, not you again. I told you, anti-fairies don't grant wishes. Now, shut up!" Mikey scowled. Anti-Cosmo spotted Amanda. "This is the girl, son?" Foop nodded. "Well, then, um…"

"Her name is Amanda," Bunsen informed.

"Amanda, I don't know exactly what you did, but my son doesn't ask me to torture just anyone, so you must have done something pretty bad to him and my wife. So, you're coming with me to my dungeon."

Amanda hummed in interest. "Trapped in a dungeon with a guy who has piercing green eyes and a British accent. It's kind of ironic. You're one of the creatures I despise, and yet... _I like it_."

Anti-Cosmo frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. "Okay… Ignoring that. Let's just get to your torment."

"Whatever you say, handsome. _Purr_."

With a hard swallow, Anti-Cosmo poofed - _*Oh dear*_ \- himself and Amanda to Anti-Fairy World.

Bunsen shrugged. "Well, I'm not quite sure what happened, but I guess all's well that ends well, eh, Mikey?"

"Yeah," Mikey said, "except I still didn't get my wishes."

" _I still didn't get my wishes_ ," Foop mocked. "Up your butthole, Mikey!"

Mikey gritted his teeth at him. "Why must you be so mean!?"

"Why must _you_ be such a whiner!?"

"Why, I oughta-"

"No, I oughta!"

"No, _I_ oughta!"

"No, _I_ -"

" _Shut up_!" Bunsen shouted, because, dang it, enough was enough. "This is a joyous day, and I'm not letting anything ruin it! Foop, violence and arguing is never the answer. Except when it is, but it's not right now! And, Mikey, the world does not revolve around you! You are not always going to get everything you want in life!" The boys just stared at him in shock. Bunsen took a calming breath. "Okay, now apologize."

"Uh, I'm sorry…" Foop and Mikey said hesitantly.

Bunsen nodded in approval. "Good. Now, how about you Bassinets get to playing, and we get this party started!" His head spout appeared... but nothing came out. Confused, Bunsen tried again but had the same result. "Wow. Against all odds, I'm...out of confetti."

 **The End**

* * *

 **I am so glad I was able to post this before I went on vacation. I'll have my tablet with me, so I can write stuff, but I can't post anything from it. Weird. Anyway, next time we'll see what happens with Anti-Cosmo and Amanda. Here's a clue: animals hate Amanda in canon. Kitty is technically an animal. Do the math.**

 **Before I forget to mention it, I'll just say that the next chapter will be based on a story suggestion from pyromoosepoop. I feel bad for never mentioning this, but said author made fanart of this story on Deviantart. Just go there and search "The Anti-Fairies." You'll know it when you see it.**

 **Review!**


	23. Bad Luck of the Irish

**Summary: When leprechauns invade the castle, Anti-Cosmo uses Amanda as a spy and discovers they are after Anti-Fairy World's main power source.**

 **I think I've said this before, but this episode was based off a story idea from pyromoosepoop. I altered it a little, but I think it turned out pretty good. Also, I've finally decided what kind of powers I want spirit animals to have! Also also, the McPunchy Brothers are from the FOP episode, "Crocker of Gold," in case you don't recognize them.**

 **Episodes Required Before Reading:**

 **Pacify Her**

 **The Good, the Bad, and the Beastly**

* * *

 **Bad Luck of the Irish**

"Oh, I like it _so_ much," Amanda panted when Anti-Cosmo poofed the two of them into the castle's dungeon. "It's so dark and creepy and you're so smoking hot. _Purr_." Anti-Cosmo heaved a little but choked it back. "You okay?"

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore its burning. "Yeah, yeah. I just threw up in my mouth a little. Now, I'm going to go select one of my torture devices to cause you bodily harm with. Don't touch anythi- And, she's touching things."

Amanda had gotten down on her knees and was feeling the floor with a fascinated expression on her face. "Look at this floor. It's so grimy and disgusting." She lifted her hands and frowned at them. "Much like my hands, which are grimy and disgusting from touching the floor. Oh, what's that?" She ran over to a rack of knives, and Anti-Cosmo poofed in front of her with crossed arms and a condescending frown. She couldn't help grinning at the fact that he was floating just high enough… "You know, my face is dangerously close to a certain part of your British hunk body."

Anti-Cosmo floated down to eye level. "I hope for your sake, you mean my _feet_."

"So, how big is it? I'm guessing it's really huge. _Rawr_."

"Ugh. Why am _I_ the one being tortured?"

They heard a cough from the dungeon entrance, and Kitty flew into the room. "I felt your distress, Anti-Cosmo, so I came down here to see what was wrong. I also wanted to warn you that there are leprechauns in castle. Now, on a possibly unrelated note, who's the blond girl, and why do I feel a sudden urge to claw her eyes out?"

"Oh, that's because all animals hate me," Amanda answered, "and you are...probably an animal. I've never seen a cat with wings before, but I'm pretty sure you're an animal."

"Whoa, wait a minute," Anti-Cosmo interrupted, grateful to have a distraction from the creepy spitting girl. "What's this about leprechauns, Kitty?"

Kitty shrugged. "There's a couple leprechauns that got in somehow. I asked them to go away, but they said no. So, I conjured up a bunch of cactuses, but they're still here."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'conjure?' Since when can you do that?"

"Since always. Spirit animals can control nature itself."

"...You, um, never told me that."

"Really? Huh."

Amanda waved her hands wildly to get their attention. "Uh, hello? Blossoming ingenue who has no idea what's happening here. So, leprechauns exist, and you have a kitty named Kitty? That's not a very creative name for a cat."

Kitty turned her annoyed toward Anti-Cosmo. "So…why is she here?"

But, Anti-Cosmo paid her no mind. He already had an idea forming. "Amanda, since you're here, you may as well make yourself useful. Before I beat any leprechauns into the next Friday the 13th, I want to at least get a feel for what they're doing here."

Amanda blinked curiously at him. "And, what does that have to do with me?"

"Quite simple, young lady." Anti-Cosmo absent-mindedly twirled his wand in his hand. "See what the blokes upstairs are up to. Then, you report back to me, and I decide if they're anything I need to worry about. If they are, I'll open a can, if you know what I mean."

"And, if they're not?" Kitty asked.

Anti-Cosmo shrugged. "Then, I'll rough them up a bit and poof them back to Ireland."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just open your little can of w-"

Anti-Cosmo chuckled and patted her on the head. "Oh, child. In order to fight the enemy properly, one must understand why the enemy does what he does. That way, you can look for weaknesses and target them effectively."

Amanda hummed with interest. "I could learn a lot from you, Anti-Cosmo."

* * *

"We searched the whole place," Amanda heard as she cautiously entered the foyer and hid behind the staircase, "but we couldn't find anythin _nnggg_."

She started at the size of one of them. He was at least twice the size of a grown man. His green-skinned companion, along with one with the orange beard, were much smaller, but were still taller than her, and all three of them were rather muscular. The only one who looked like what you'd expect from a leprechaun was the girl with the curly red hair. Considering that the big one was talking to her, she must have been the leader.

The girl huffed, "If she says the Anti-Abracadabrium is here, then it's here. You McPunchy's know the deal. She uses the Anti-Abracadabrium to do whatever it is she's doing. And, if it's removed from Anti-Fairy World, that means that anti-fairies can't use magic, thus they can't bother us anymore. Everyone wins except the anti-fairies."

Anti-Abracadabrium? Amanda didn't know what that was, but it sounded pretty important. Quiet as was possible for her, she tried to sneak back to the dungeon-

Only to be grabbed harshly by the arm. She turned her head fearfully to find the female leprechaun gazing angrily at her. "Well, what do we have here?" the leprechaun pondered darkly. "A little spy, perhaps?"

The big ones slowly, menacingly walked toward them, seeming impossibly large up close. The green-skinned one asked, "Shall we boil her like potato stew, Anastasia?"

The girl - apparently named Anastasia - thought it over. "Eh. Nah. She's a human, she is. Not much of a threat."

"Hey, I resent that!" Amanda protested.

With an annoyed look, Anastasia wiped Amanda's spittle off her face with her free hand. "Braces, eh? Been there, spit that, I did." She snapped her fingers. "Any of you boys still got your prison handcuffs?"

"And, the key to them," the one with the orange beard said, pulling some handcuffs out of his...underwear? _Ew_!

* * *

After thirty seconds of protesting, struggling, and cussing, Amanda was handcuffed to the banister, making a mental note to boil her hands later. Foolishly deciding that their captive was, well, captive, the leprechauns left to continue their search.

Once she was sure they were gone, Amanda giggled mischievously and addressed the readers. "What those leprechauns fail to realize is that I've got a secret weapon. It's a hair accessory _and_ a lock-picking supply rolled into one. Behold," she reached into her hair with her free hand and pulled out a small blonde object, "my bobby pin! Which I coincidentally purchased from Bobby Pin's Hair Accessory and Lock-Picking Supply Store."

* * *

Amanda returned to the dungeon to find Anti-Cosmo impatiently pace-floating and Kitty boredly grooming herself. Both stopped what they were doing upon seeing her. "Report, child," Anti-Cosmo demanded.

Wow, that accent made _literally_ everything he said sound sexy. Amanda cleared her throat, feeling both intimidated and turned on by his ever-present air of authority. _If this guy's not_ at least _a military general, I'll buy a hat and eat it._ "Okay, so there's four of them. Three are really huge guys, and one's a girl who may or may not be their leader."

"Don't care. Tell me what they want and how big of a can I should open."

"Uh, right. It sounds like they're looking for something specific. I forget exactly what it's called. Anti-Abracadabra, or something. Okay, I'm gleaming from the paleness of your face that this bad."

Anti-Cosmo forced himself to remain calm. "The Anti-Abracadabrium is Anti-Fairy World's main power source. I don't know how leprechauns will be able to touch it without killing themselves - it contains a lot of bad luck, you see - but if they find a way, then Darkness knows what will happen."

Kitty scoffed, annoyed for some reason. "Why are you telling her this? Haven't you noticed how _every molecule of her being is evil_?"

"Yes, I have noticed. What's your point?" Kitty rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you girls stay here until I whoop their green behinds."

He flew out of the dungeon, and Amanda ran after him, calling, "Wait! I wanna watch the carnage!"

Kitty flew after her, "And, I wanna keep you from tainting Anti-Cosmo!"

* * *

"Any luck?" Anastasia asked, finding the McPunchy Brothers tearing the living room apart after she had just finished doing the same to Anti-Cosmo's private study.

Big Dave, the appropriately named largest leprechaun, tossed the couch aside and answered, "'Fraid not, lassie. Let's face it. We've searched high and low but haven't found a trace of the Anti-Abracadabrium. Are you _sure_ Doombringer said it was here _rrrre_?"

"Of course," Anastasia huffed despite starting to doubt herself.

Just then, Anti-Cosmo stormed into the room, the girls right on his tail. "Well, if it isn't Anastasia McShamrock. Working with the McPunchy Brothers now, are you?"

"Not now, Anti-Cosmo. We're looking for the Anti-Abr- Oh, Blarney." Anastasia raised her shillelagh threateningly. "Let's take 'em down, lads!"

The leprechauns charged at them. Anti-Cosmo quickly took on Anastasia in a sword fight-esque duel with their wand and shillelagh respectively. Greenie and Lucky ganged up on Kitty, who raised her arms and sent poison ivy shooting out of the floor and wrapping them up. They cried out in agony, as red rashes bloomed (no pun intended) on their skin.

Amanda saw Big Dave crack his knuckles and leer at her. She swallowed hard and stammered, "Wow, I-I just realized I l-left the stove on, so I should probably run for my life." And, she was ready to do just that, when Big Dave took a step forward and slipped, falling comically on his back. Amanda laughed at the unexpected turn of events. "You just slipped on my saliva!" She stepped closer to gloat some more, only slip and on her own back. "Gah! So did I!"

Meanwhile, Anastasia managed to knocked Anti-Cosmo's wand out of his hand and whacked him hard in the side. He collapsed to the floor, pain searing in both sides of him, and glared daggers up at her.

Anastasia's gloating gaze sent flames raging through him. "Ha ha! Whatcha gonna do without your wand, Anti-Cos-moron? And, yes, I went there."

Anti-Cosmo smirked, eyes suddenly blazing in a way that made the leprechaun above him shrink back in fear and surprise. "Oh, I think I'll do this."

Her shillelagh flew out of her hands and knocked Big Dave out cold. Anastasia suddenly found herself being raised into the air, kicking and screaming in fright. "What in the name of marshmallow cereal is happening!?"

"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention." Anti-Cosmo stood up. "I don't know what you want with the Anti-Abracadabrium, and I don't care. But, you will _never_ find or have it."

On that note, he raised one arm and quickly lowered it, sending Anastasia barreling into the hardwood floor, sending splinters of wood through the air and splatters of green blood speckling his blue jacket.

A frightened and shaky Kitty cautiously flew toward the wreckage, blatantly avoiding direct eye contact with the victim in the midst of it. "Is she...d-dead?"

Amanda slowly walked toward the leprechaun, who moaned. "Nah, she's fine," Amanda pointed out matter-of-factly.

Out of nowhere, Anti-Wanda poofed into the room and flew through the wreckage, not even acknowledging her surroundings. "Any of y'all seen my banjo?"

Anti-Cosmo and Kitty exchanged confused looks, then the latter asked, "Why do you need your banjo?"

"Here it is!" Anti-Wanda picked up her instrument, which was laying beside the still-unconscious Big Dave. "Bryson got a girlfriend named Darcy, and she plays the banjo, so I thought we could do a banjo duet!" Then, her eyes widened in shock as she seemed to _finally_ notice the carnage in the middle of the room. "Wait a minute. This doesn't look like it usually does." She flew over to Anastasia and asked, "Anastasia, did you get a haircut?"

"I'm _bleeding_!" Anastasia whined.

"And, your hair has never looked better." With that, she poofed away, leaving Anastasia silently fuming at the comment.

"Wow. Just...wow." Kitty said. "Okay, back to reality. What happens now?"

Anti-Cosmo shrugged. "I guess we'll just poof them all back to Ireland and clean this place up." He raised his wand and did just that. _*Neat and Tidy Poof*_

"I must say, Anti-Cosmo," Amanda praised, "I'm impressed by your power and ferocity. I'm also aroused. And, terrified. Can I be all three? I'm being all three. But, I would like to know; where _is_ this Anti-Abracadabrium, anyway?"

Kitty grabbed Anti-Cosmo's wand off the floor and bonked her on the head with it. "None of your business! I don't like or trust you!"

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes and addressed Amanda. "Amanda, I'd like to thank you for helping us take down those leprechauns. I'd like to, but you didn't really do much. Come to think of it, I never did get to torture you. I'm a bit winded from that fight, and you said that all animals hate you, so I think I'll just sic Kitty on you. Kitty, do whatever you want with her. I'm gonna make myself some tea."

He poofed to the kitchen. Kitty grinned darkly at Amanda, who chuckled nervously then screamed as poison ivy shot through the floor and strangled her.

* * *

"What do you mean, you didn't get it? _Ugh_." Doombringer hung up the phone and rubbed her temples in annoyance. Leave it to a leprechaun to screw up. Fine. So, she didn't have the Anti-Abracadabrium. There were other power sources she could use. It would take a lot longer to get them, but they would work just fine. And, maybe she could even get revenge on Anti-Cosmo for burning off her hair and leaving those ugly scars on her scalp.

Time for Plan B.

 **The End…?**

* * *

 **I do _not_ consider the live-action movies to be canon. However, I was interested in the whole Abracadabrium thing, so I gave the anti-fairies their own because why not? On an unrelated note, any objections to me making a running gag out of Amanda stalking Anti-Cosmo? 'Cause, I kind of wanna do that. Review!**


	24. New Friends, Old Stories

**Summary: Someone from Anti-Cosmo's past pays a surprise visit. Meanwhile, Kitty learns a little pixie history from the Head Pixie himself.**

 **I was going to post part three of the tour...but this actually happens before the events of part three. Okay, to be perfectly honest, I was so excited about this chapter that I couldn't wait any longer to write and post it. This one's definitely my favorite (so far, at least), because it has lots of world-building and character backstory in it. Also, there's a character I'm introducing, and he's super adorable!**

 **On a side note, this is my first time writing HP, so bear with me here.**

* * *

 **New Friends, Old Stories**

" _You lead my way then disappeared; how could you just walk away and leave me here?_ " - _Dark On Me_ , Starset

"Mother of The Three Sisters' mother, Kitty!" exclaimed an exasperated Anti-Cosmo. "Will you stop flying around like a bat on a sugar high?"

But, Kitty wasn't listening, she just flew around the living room, dusting things and arranging other things, until Anti-Cosmo grabbed her tail, forcing her to turn in his direction and wag her feather duster at him in annoyance. "Anti-Cosmo, I'm _trying_ to make this place spotless for when the Head Pixie gets here."

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "We're not having dinner with the Queen, you twit. HP just wants to meet you, is all."

"Exactly. And, I want him to like me." As, she left to clean everything for the Anti-Cosmo-stopped-counting-th time, he poofed away her feather duster. "Hey, I was using that!"

"Kitty, we're having tea and coffee here and then going to Pixie World to play golf. It's not exactly a formal affair-"

"We're going to Pixie World?" Kitty's green eyes darkened with a new alarm. "You didn't tell me that! I'm gonna stand out worse than my friend, Harvey, at that Tiny Hat Convention! Harvey has a really big head; that's a key element in that story."

Honestly, this kid… "Dear girl, you'd feel out of place in a room full of black cats. Seriously! Were you this nervous upon first meeting me?"

"Yes!"

"Gah! I feel like _I'm_ the Spirit Guide here!" Suddenly, a loud crash was heard. "What in the name of Darkness?"

They flew through the castle, following the sound of a second crash, and traced the noise to Anti-Cosmo's private study. A vase and a framed photograph of Foop were lying on the floor, both objects shattered. In the middle of the wreckage, crouched an anti-fairy that Kitty didn't recognize. He was foolishly trying to gather up the shards with his hands, tracking silver over the hardwood floor. Kitty was about to stop him, but Anti-Cosmo had already poofed up a first-aid kit and was kneeling on the floor in front of him, mindful of the broken glass.

The anti-fairy blinked at him then gave him an apologetic smile and said in a surprisingly deep voice, "Oh, hi, Anti-Cosmo… Some stuff broke."

Kitty could feel Anti-Cosmo's worry and slight annoyance through their Bond. "Yes, I can see that, Anti-Clark," he said, opening the kit and pulling out some anti-septic. "But, next time you break something, grab a broom and dustpan or tell someone instead of bloodying up your hands like an idiot."

Anti-Clark grinned sheepishly, looking at everything that wasn't Anti-Cosmo. "Am I in trouble, sir?"

Anti-Cosmo sighed, now blotting the other anti-fairy's hands clean with a sterile towel. "No. Just be more careful, okay?" He poofed away the kit, then waved his wand again to clean up the mess.

Kitty was amazed by how calm and gentle Anti-Cosmo was with this random intruder. They clearly knew each other, but this was still pretty weird. Normally, Anti-Cosmo would demand to know what an intruder was doing here, if not outright attack. Whoever this guy was, the two must have been pretty close, especially given the swirling emotions Anti-Cosmo was feeling. It was honestly making Kitty a little dizzy.

She coughed to gain their attention. "Uh, Anti-Cosmo, aren't you gonna introduce me?"

Anti-Cosmo turned around, as though just remembering that she was there. "Oh? Oh, yes. Of course." Shocking her even further, he helped the other anti-fairy to his feet. "Kitty, this is Anti-Clark. Anti-Clark, my Spirit Guide, Kitty."

Kitty nodded politely in greeting, despite her confusion. "Nice to meet you."

Anti-Clark grinned, showing sharp canines that mirrored Anti-Cosmo's, his ruby-red eyes shining with interest. "Ah, I heard he got a Spirit Guide." He threw his arm around Anti-Cosmo's shoulders, startling the younger anti-fairy. "You be nice to my pal here, okay? We've known each other a long time."

"You could say that, yes." Anti-Cosmo lifted Anti-Clark's arm off of him. "Look, Anti-Clark, this is kind of a bad time. I'm sort of expecting someone other than you." The doorbell rang. "And, that's probably him."

"Oh, can come say hi?" Anti-Clark asked, clasping his hands in front of him. "I've been stuck in the clinic a really long time, and I would very much like to associate with people who don't talk to themselves or throw things or try to eat my Swedish meatballs."

Anti-Cosmo didn't want to disappoint him, and Kitty still couldn't figure out what exactly their relationship was. "Well, um-"

"H-Hey, Anti-Clark," Kitty said. "Why don't you hang out with me for a while. I don't talk to myself or throw things. Heck, I don't even like Swedish meatballs."

Anti-Cosmo sent her a small smile and poofed - _*Thank you!*_ \- away.

Anti-Clark bounced a little on his heels, looking like a toddler on Christmas morning. "I like interacting with non-crazy people. 'Cause I'm non-crazy too."

"Uh, good for you." Okay, now Kitty was starting to see why Anti-Cosmo had been so uncomfortable. And yet, he still seemed to care about Anti-Clark for some reason. "So, uh, how did you and Anti-Cosmo meet?"

Anti-Clark frowned in thought, subconsciously licking his lips. "Um…" He ran a hand through his greasy black hair. "I think…"

Oh dear. "Anyway… I couldn't help noticing your wings."

He blinked at her. "My wings?"

"Yeah. They have those little notches in them."

"Oh, that. Yeah. When you live at the clinic, the nurses clip your wings, so you can't fly around and hurt yourself and others. They also steal your wand for the same reason. Which is kind of dumb, 'cause I wouldn't hurt anyone. I'm no more dangerous than any other anti-fairy, really. Except for that one time I threw a fork in the cafeteria, but they got it out of Anti-Maggie's arm, so no harm done."

...Kitty really hoped Anti-Cosmo was coming back soon.

* * *

Ross "HP" Grey had known Anti-Cosmo since the head anti-fairy was still a cubic child. Having been close friends with that child's father, HP had no problems recognizing signs of distress or discomfort, despite pixies themselves not exactly being the most...emotional of species.

So, when Anti-Cosmo opened the unnecessarily large castle door to let him in, HP immediately noticed something amiss. "Alright," he said before the anti-fairy could even greet him properly. "I know that look, so don't try to tell me that there's nothing wrong."

"What?" Anti-Cosmo said too quickly. "Nothing's wr-"

"I just told you not to tell me that."

Anti-Cosmo stammered a bit then sighed, knowing that he wouldn't win this argument. "It's nothing to concern yourself with, old bean. It's just a certain someone. Barging in unannounced. _Again_."

HP was about to ask who he was talking about, when he saw a blue shape sneak into the foyer. Oh, _that_ certain someone.

Anti-Clark spotted him and raced over waving at him gleefully. "Hey, my other friend's here!" He shoved Anti-Cosmo aside, and grabbed HP's hands pulling him into the room. "So, nice to see you again, HP!"

As the pixie tried yank himself free - he was never exactly the hand-holding type - a frazzled-looking cat with dragonfly-like wings flew over to Anti-Clark, her black fur fluffed up in anxiety. "Anti-Clark, _please_ let him go," she begged, her dark green eyes flitting from him to HP and back. "I-I don't think he likes that."

HP heard a poof from nearby, and Anti-Cosmo shoved a children's coloring book and a box of crayons in Anti-Clark's face. "Color the animals!"

Much to HP's relief, Anti-Clark released him and plopped down on the floor, opening the book to a page with an elephant on it.

"Okay, that was an adventure," the cat sighed, trying to smooth her ruffled fur with her paws. "He's very… That-That's it. He's just very." She fixed HP with a sympathetic look. "He didn't hurt you, did he, sir?"

Sir? He liked this girl already. "No. Just startled me a little." He cleared his throat. "May I assume that you're Anti-Cosmo's new Spirit Guide?" She nodded. "This isn't exactly how I expected our first meeting to go, but," he held out his hand to her, "I'm the Head Pixie. But, you can call me HP. Everyone does."

The Spirit Guide seemed momentarily startled for some reason then simply shook his hand. "N-Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Kitalianna. Or, Kitty. I-I answer to both."

Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes, as they pulled their hands away. "I told this girl not to be nervous."

"No, you didn't," Kitty objected. "You said, 'Will you stop flying around like a bat on a sugar high?' And, I promptly ignored you."

Something bopped HP in the chin, and he looked down find Anti-Clark showing him his book, grinning like he won the Nobel Prize. "I made my elephant yellow."

"Come on, Anti-Clark," Anti-Cosmo said, helping him to his feet. "We should probably get you home."

Anti-Clark checked his non-existent watch and frowned. "Oh. Guess I have been gone a while. Do you think my nurse'll be worried?"

"You sneak out all the time," HP reminded him. "I'm sure Anti-Dove isn't too worried."

"Besides," Anti-Cosmo added, "she knows I keep you from getting yourself killed." He twirled his wand. "Come on, then. Let's get you home."

"Uh, maybe I should come with you?" Kitty suggested. "He seems like a handful. No offense, Anti-Clark." Anti-Clark shrugged good-naturedly.

Anti-Cosmo shook his head. "No, I've done this before, and I'll do it again. Keep HP company. He's been wanting to meet you anyway, right, chap?" He poofed himself and Anti-Clark away without waiting for a response.

Kitty sighed. "Well, I have no idea what just happened."

HP shook his head, pushing back the memories that threatened to swamp him. "That's not my story to tell."

Kitty raised an eyebrow but didn't push the issue. "So… Do you...wanna...sit, or something?"

* * *

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting on couch, trying to put the rather awkward incident out of their minds.

"You know," HP said, because the silence was rather awkward as well, "I never really understood the whole Spirit Guide thing with anti-fairies." Kitty tilted her head. "No offense to you. It just seems strange to me that anti-fairies are the only species who do it."

Kitty smiled. "Well, that goes back a really long time ago. Not long after the Earth came into existence. On his one hundredth anniversary of leadership, Anti-Butch Anti-Hartman, the very first known anti-fairy ruler, found a dying spirit animal - a black cat, to be precise - in the forest. He took him in and used non-corporeal magic to heal him. The cat - I think his name was Dusk. Anyway, Dusk owed his life to Anti-Butch, so he Bound their souls and made himself Anti-Butch's life-long protector. Of course, he didn't realize that Anti-Butch would end up as _his_ protector as well...or that the death of one would drive the other one to madness, but whatever. The two were a fierce and unstoppable pair, and since then, anti-fairy rulers have been getting Spirit Guides as one-hundred-year anniversary presents. In fact, that story is the same reason why black cats are considered unlucky." She giggled. "I think Dusk loved Friday the 13th a little too much."

Wow. HP was over fifty thousand years old, and he had never known that. Yet, this was a _child_ , and she seemed to know the story by heart.

Kitty blushed under her fur and scratched her ear. "Sorry. I'm really into history, so I kinda go into rant-mode when people ask me about it."

HP internally smirked. "There's nothing wrong with knowing your history, Kitalianna." He rubbed chin, thinking. "Actually, there's a pixie story you may be interested in. Are you familiar with the legend of the Three Sisters?"

Kitty's eyes widened with curiosity. "No. Do tell."

"Well, before even the magical realms existed, there lived three demon Sisters: the Sister of Light, the Sister of Darkness, and the Sister of Grayscale. Light was the more rambunctious of the Sisters and sought beings who would join her in her merriment. So, she used her vast magic to create fairies. But, the fairies' boundless energy and excitement was causing chaos, so Darkness created anti-fairies, thinking that the two opposites would create a balance."

"Did it work?" Kitty asked, clearly drinking in every word.

"On the contrary, Kitalianna, things only got worse. Instead of bringing peace, the anti-fairies attacked the destructive fairies, who retaliated. Such is the way of war. Light and Darkness didn't know what to do, but Grayscale had an idea. She brought about pixies, beings that did not stand on either side of the war. A neutral race that eventually managed to calm the more chaotic beings by arranging for them to each have their own lands: Fairy World and Anti-Fairy World. And, of course, Grayscale reward her creations by giving them Pixie World. And, well, here we are."

"That's so cool," Kitty breathed. "I can't believe one person could have the power to create an entire species."

HP shrugged. "Well, it's just a legend. But, I suppose every legend has some truth to it, so who knows?"

* * *

Although, he definitely missed his magic, Anti-Clark found that he didn't really miss flying. He remembered it well enough, but he also remembered that he had always prefered walking. It just seemed more relaxing to him. And, Anti-Cosmo knew that, so he always poofed them outside the castle, so they could walk back to the clinic.

The air smelled especially musty today, and there were more storm clouds than usual. Rain must have been coming. Anti-Clark was never a fan of rain, but he remembered that Anti-Cosmo liked it. There were a lot of things Anti-Clark didn't remember, so he was always happy when he did remember things, even little details like those.

The two anti-fairies walked down the sidewalk in silence, but Anti-Clark never really liked silence, so he tried to think of something to say.

Fortunately, his companion beat him to it. "You know, they really need to keep you on a tighter leash."

"Beg your pardon?" Anti-Clark asked, still clutching the coloring book and crayon box to his chest.

Anti-Cosmo shrugged, his hands resting casually in his pockets. "It just seems ridiculous to me, how you always manage to slip away and wander over for a visit."

"You don't like my visits?" Anti-Clark asked in mock hurt. _Of course_ Anti-Cosmo liked his visits. They've been friends for Darkness knows how long!

Anti-Cosmo tensed a little for some reason. "O-Of course I do. It just doesn't seem like the clinic has the best security. Then again, you seem to be the only one who ever sneaks out without an aid with you, so maybe you're just-"

"Smart? Clever?"

"I was going to say mind-numbingly irritating, but okay." Anti-Clark punched him lightly in the arm. Anti-Cosmo rolled his eyes. "Speaking of, how's Anti-Dove? I haven't seen her in a while."

Anti-Clark shrugged, pretending that his stomach wasn't full of fluttering butterflies. "She's fine."

But, as always, Anti-Cosmo saw right through him and smirked. "Fine, you say? How _fine_ would you say she is?"

"Just-Just regular fine, I suppose."

"Mm-hm. Fine how, though? Fine, like, she's happy and healthy or fine, like, she's a _fine_ woman?"

"Oh, we're here!" Anti-Clark announced, heat creeping up his neck.

They walked past the "Anti-Angel Psychiatric Hospital" sign and toward the front door. A nurse who had been peering at them through the window flew out the door and landed on the ground in front of them, eyes shining with relief. "Oh, thank Darkness! You were gone longer than usual; I thought something happened."

Anti-Clark clutched his book and crayons tighter. "Sorry, Anti-Dove." He glanced down at his velcro sneakers, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of his friend by gawking at Anti-Dove. Her hair, such a pale blue that it was almost white, was pulled back in two braids, offering a full view of her high cheek bones and the splash of white freckles on her dark skin. Her scrubs were the same maroon-color as her eyes and fit her in all the right places… And, there went his neck again.

Anti-Dove brushed a stray hair from her face and asked Anti-Cosmo, "He wasn't any trouble, was he?"

"Nah, no more than usual," Anti-Cosmo replied.

Anti-Dove rolled her eyes. "Fair enough. Come on, Anti-Clark. Bye, Anti-Cosmo."

"See you soon, I'm sure."

Anti-Clark let out an involuntary squeak, when she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building. He waved goodbye to Anti-Cosmo, who smirked again and waved back.

Anti-Dove didn't let go of him (not that he minded), as they walked through the clinic, passing patients and nurses along the way. "Bad luck."

Anti-Clark smiled. He liked playing Memory. It was when she would say something, and he'd have to say what it reminded him of. "Friday the 13th."

"Wands."

"Magic."

"Anti-Fairies."

"Us."

"Anti-Cosmo."

"My son."

They both stopped walking. Anti-Dove stared wide-eyed at him, but Anti-Clark was just as confused. Son? Where did that come from? He didn't have any kids. Did he? No, he would _definitely_ have remembered that.

Anti-Dove twirled a finger around the end of one of her braids. "W-What did you say?" She sounded hopeful.

The last thing Anti-Clark wanted to do was confuse her, but he was pretty confused himself. "I don't know why I said that. Oh! I just remembered!" Anti-Dove grinned, then she frowned in confusion, as he opened his coloring book and carefully tore out the page with the yellow elephant. He handed it to her. "I colored this for you."

Anti-Dove smiled, but it seemed forced somehow. Didn't she like it? "Oh. How sweet." She took the picture in one hand and grabbed his hand again with the other. "I'll take it home with me tonight. Thank you." They continued walking. They were almost at his room now. "So, about the son thing-"

"No no no," Anti-Clark said. "That was fluke. I don't have- I don't think- Whatever."

Anti-Dove got really quiet. He hated when that happened, because it meant she was upset.

Anti-Clark squeezed her hand. "Can we play Memory some more?"

"We're here." Anti-Dove opened his door and gently pushed him into the off-white room. "Thank for the picture."

"Y-You don't have to go yet," Anti-Clark begged, as she tried to shut his door.

Anti-Dove lingered for a moment then sighed and came into the room, closing the door behind her. She walked over and sat down on his bed. He sat next to her, and she told him, "You know, you've always been my favorite patient. You're the only one who doesn't talk to himself or throw things or-"

"-try to eat my Swedish meatballs," they finished together. "Jinx! You owe me a beer!"

They had a good laugh at that. Then, they laid down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Silence never seemed awkward with her. Somehow, she made silence seem rather comfortable.

"Bacon," he said. Anti-Dove looked at him oddly. "I wanna try Memory on you, for once. Bacon."

She smiled and looked back up at the ceiling. "Deliciousness."

"Dogs."

"My allergies."

"Mm...Joy?"

"That elephant you gave me."

The comfortable silence came back and continued until Anti-Dove got paged to help with a rowdy patient. She said goodbye and left. The room always felt emptier when she left.

" _I could lie awake just to watch you breathe; in the dead of night, you went dark on me._ " - _Dark On Me_ , Starset

 **The End**

* * *

 **Be honest. Were you surprised by that little plot twist, or did you totally see it coming? Also, let me know if you forever ship Anti-ClarkXAnti-Dove, like I do now that I've written this.**

 **I hope I did okay with HP, 'cause he's gonna be popping up every now and then. Review!**


	25. Bobby and the Ink Device

**Summary: (Parody of Bendy and the Ink Machine) The gang decide to explore an abandoned animation studio, only to discover that it's not quite as abandoned as they thought.**

 **For those of you who have never played/heard of _Bendy and the Ink Machine_ (which would make a good band name, come to think of it), don't fret. You don't have to know anything about the game to read this. Those who have played/are planning to play, there are mild spoilers but nothing too serious. After all, the game's only got two chapters as I post this, so there's not much to spoil quite yet.**

* * *

To say that the building before them was in a state of disrepair would have been an understatement. The walls were peeling in some places and just plain broken in others. Windows were either boarded up or smashed. Just above the door, the sign reading "Don Whimsy Studios" was faded to near illegibility, tilted harshly, and seemed to be clinging to a single rusted screw for dear life. Oh, never mind. It just fell off.

Foop was the first to break the confused silence. "Mother, why are we stopping here?"

Anti-Wanda flew excitedly in front of the children, as the kids continued gazing curiously at the structure. "Don't y'all know what this is?"

"Something out of a low-budget horror movie?" Brenda suggested.

Anti-Wanda shoved her playfully. "No, silly. It's Don Whimsy Studios! Scary World's most famous animation studio! This is the place where they made my favorite cartoon: Bobby the Dancing Devil. It was the most popular cartoon ever! At least until that cartoon mouse came into the picture."

"Well, it doesn't look very popular now," Anti-Goldie pointed out.

"Yeah, it got shut down a couple hundred years ago," Anti-Wanda informed. "No one really knows why."

As she flew toward the building, her son asked, "Uh, what are you doing?"

Anti-Wanda turned around and grinned. "Ain't y'all curious? Don't ya wanna see inside?"

"I don't know, Anti-Wanda," Brenda said, eyeing the building wearily. "I've got a bad feeling about this place."

"Oh, hush. It's an old, decrepit animation studio in the heart of Scary World that was shut down for undocumented reasons. What could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

 **Anti-Summer Tour (Part Three)**

 **Bobby and the Ink Device**

The kids were all in agreement; this place was _awesome_. The studio was even creepier on the inside than it was on the outside. Small animals skittered around, startled by the larger intruders, spider webs were all over the place, there were puddles of black stuff on the floor (blood or ink or something), and there was so much dust that Vladimir sneezed a few times in succession. The place was also littered with cardboard cutouts of a cartoon devil, who probably would have been kind of cute if its smile wasn't so gosh-darn creepy. Anti-Wanda told them that was Bobby from the old cartoon.

Brenda gagged. "It smells like something died in here. I like it!"

"Something probably did die in here," Anti-Goldie pointed out, opening a desk drawer and sifting through its contents. "Multiple somethings. This is place is pretty deserted."

Anti-Wanda flew into the room the kids were exploring in. "I wonder if we'll find the ink device."

"The what?" Foop asked before sneezing away a spider that landed on his nose.

"The ink device! Don Whimsy used it to make cartoon-making go faster. They say it magically made them cartoon-y critters come to life. That way they's could film the stuff happening instead of drawing one picture at a time."

Bryson cringed. "Yeesh! Is that how cartoons are normally made? Do people really only draw one picture at a time?"

As Bryson wandered down the hall, Anti-Goldie commented, "That sounds like cruel and unusual punishment."

"Hey, guys!" Bryson called. "You gotta see this!"

They all scurried into the next room. The first thing they saw was a huge cement mixer-looking thing that was covered in the same black stuff that was on the floor. It had a computer hooked up to it and a big on/off lever.

Anti-Wanda squealed and flew in excited circles towards it. "It's the ink device! It's gotta be!"

As the others walked/floated closer, Vladimir wandered off, and Foop flew after him. No one noticed them leaving the room.

"You think it still works?" Bryson wondered.

Anti-Goldie shrugged. "Doubt it. The things, like, a million years old and probably hasn't been touched in forever."

Brenda nodded in agreement. "She's right. Let's go find some dead bodies. I bet this place is crawling with them."

"Ah, c'mon, gals," Anti-Wanda teased. "Ya ain't never gonna know 'less ya try it out. Flip it on, Bryson!"

Grinning, Bryson pulled the lever. Everyone jumped back, when the machine made a whirring noise

Anti-Wanda clasped her hands together in a child-like glee. "See, y'all? It works!" Ink spurted out of the device, speckling them with black ink.

"I think it needs a tune-up," Anti-Goldie commented.

* * *

Foop found Vladimir running around in a circle, squealing like a maniac. "Vladimir!" The vampig stopped upon hearing his master's voice. "Naughty piggy! Don't you know anything about horror movies? The first people to leave the group always end up getting killed! And, I left the group, so I guess I'm in just as much danger as you are."

Then, he gazed around in the room, and his stomach curdled and a chill crept down his spine. Some sort of operating table was sitting vertically against the wall, giving a full view of the creature strapped to it. It looked like a cartoonish, black-and-white style werewolf. It's eyes were those little cartoon X's, and it's tongue was lolling out of its mouth. But, the really disturbing part was that its chest was sloppily cut open, as if the killer was in a hurry. Ink (at least, Foop _hoped_ it was ink) poured out of the gaping wound. Fresh wound. Probably not even an hour old.

Foop shivered, unable to take his eyes off the victim. "Vladimir...I-I think we need to leave…"

Vladimir didn't need to be told twice. He bolted out of the room, squealing his chubby head off. Foop was about to follow him, but the door slammed shut. He reached a shaky hand to the knob, but the door wouldn't open. He looked down and saw black leaking under the door, making him grateful that he could float.

"Hello?" he called, failing to keep his voice from shaking. "I-If this is a prank, it's not very funny." Black dripped on to his shoulder. He reluctantly turned around and screamed.

* * *

"Hey, what happens if I stick my head this?" Bryson asked, popping his head into a hole in the ink device.

His sister pulled him back. "That's probably not a good idea."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"

They all started at the familiar scream. "Was that Foop?" Anti-Wanda asked, looking around in horror. "Where's Foop?"

"He was here before," Anti-Goldie responded frantically.

Suddenly, she let out a strangled yelp and vanished in a blob of black. Brenda and Bryson quickly fell to the same fate, leaving Anti-Wanda alone in the room, wondering what was going on. "Kids?" she squeaked.

The black puddles on the floor moved toward her with a disgusting slurping noise. Screaming in panic, she tried to poof it all away, but the black reached up and engulfed her wand. She gagged on the ice-cold slime as it slowly, purposefully coated the rest of her body, until she ran out of oxygen.

* * *

When she woke up, Anti-Wanda was sore all over, and there was a horrible taste in her mouth. She shook her head to clear its grogginess, only succeeding in making herself dizzy. She instead- What did her husband call it? Access her surfaces? Whatever the saying was, she did it. Her knees were squished against her breasts, and her arms were straight down against her sides, the uncomfortable position held by a slimy, itchy rope.

"Is she awake?" a voice said. It sounded like a little boy. "I can't really see from my angle."

Another voice, this time a little girl. "I think so. Anti-Wanda?"

The third voice might have been a girl, but it was pretty gravelly. "Hey, Anti-Wanda? Can you hear us?"

Then, Anti-Wanda remembered what happened. She didn't _understand_ what happened, but that black... _thing_ was hard to forget. "Kids? Y'all okay?"

"Tied up and covered in ink," Anti-Goldie replied, "but otherwise okay."

"Foop's been pretty quiet, though," Bryson added.

Anti-Wanda's heart paused. She wished she could turn around and see her baby, but she was stuck and without her wand. "Foop? Sugarplum? You alright, baby?" Not so much as a scolding for calling him "sugarplum." Anti-Wanda bit her lip. "Sweetie, say something!"

Silence, which was quickly broken by Brenda. "Guys...where's Foop?"

Anti-Wanda was afraid someone would say that. Where was her son? Did he escape somehow? Or, was he still in the building? Oh, sweet Darkness. What if her baby was cowering in a corner somewhere, his chubby little arms wrapped around Vladimir, as that crazy black stuff came after him and… Anti-Wanda struggled harder in her binding.

The door flew open, and Anti-Wanda froze in horror. Standing in the doorway, was a small, square creature, coated head to toe in dripping black ink. Its only visible body part was a single purple eye, blank and glazed over as it was. The creature walked closer to them, stumbling as if mind-numbingly drunk, a trail of black droplets trailing behind him.

"What's happening?" Bryson asked. "Someone turn me around, so I can see!"

The black square ignored him. "Ah, you've all awoken," it said. Its voice was deep, hoarse, yet strangely familiar.

"Who are you?" Brenda asked, feigning bravery.

"Where's my son?" Anti-Wanda added desperately.

"What are you gonna do to us?" Anti-Goldie squeaked.

"And, can someone _please_ tell me what's going on?" Bryson demanded.

The creature stomped his foot. " _Silence_! My Master, the Great Bobby, is on His way." Bobby? What kind of name for a monster was _Bobby_? "I can feel him crawling closer. _Crawling_!" The creature leaned in closer to Anti-Wanda, who was too nervous to look away from it. "Hm… You look...familiar…"

And, as she stared into its dead purple eye, Anti-Wanda realized with a shocked and broken heart that it- That _he_ looked familiar as well.

A mother always knew her son.

Foop backed off. "Never mind. It isn't important. What's important is that, once I find that stupid piglet, Bobby will have five sacrifices. He will complete the ritual, and He will regain His full power."

Her son turned and stumbled toward the door. Anti-Wanda called out desperately, "Foop, I know you don't wanna do this!"

" _That's_ Foop!?" the girls exclaimed incredulously.

Bryson groaned. "Oh, gosh, _please_ turn me around. I am _so_ confused!"

Foop paused at the door, and his mother's heart lifted a little. Maybe he was okay now? But, then he glanced at her them over his shoulder and told them in the same monotone, "Rest easy, my little sheep. He will see you soon." Foop closed the door behind him, leaving his victims alone in a stunned silence.

A silence, which was quickly broken by Bryson. "Um… I still don't know what just happened. So, that Bobby cartoon character is alive, or something?"

"And, apparently he _really_ screwed Foop up," Brenda said.

"There's gotta be a way to fix him," Anti-Wanda said. "Or, at least a way for me to smack Bobby into next Friday the 13th."

Just then, a round black blob rose off the ground in the corner of the room. They all struggled with their bindings, desperate to get away from it. Then, it oinked like a pig and shook off its inky coating, revealing the pale skin and pudgy face underneath. They cheered quietly (except Bryson, who complained about _still_ facing away from everything), as Vladimir ran up to Anti-Wanda, grabbed the rope with his teeth, and snapped it, freeing his female master.

Anti-Wanda gleefully squished his cheeks together. "Good boy, Vladimir! Now, help me free the others."

Once the kids were free, Anti-Goldie rolled her sore shoulders and said, "Guys, I just thought of something. Anti-Wanda, didn't you say Don Whimsy used the ink device to bring cartoons to life?"

Anti-Wanda shrugged. "Yeah. So?"

"This whole thing started when we turned it on. Maybe if we can destroy it, then everything will go back to normal."

"Or," Brenda responded, "maybe everything will be a thousand times worse."

"Well, it's the only plan we got," Anti-Wanda stated. "And, if it means getting my son back to normal - or at least as normal as he can get - I reckon, I'm gonna try anything and everything. Even if it means you all's gonna die tonight." She narrowed her eyes at their reactions. "Don't look at me like that. You'd say the same thing if y'all was mothers." Pulse hammering, she opened the door slightly and peered through the crack. "We need to be super quiet."

"Gotcha," Bryson said, holding his axe and skull close. Wait, what?

"Dude, what's with the stuff?" Anti-Goldie asked him.

"Oh, I found these lying next to that pile of bones over there. I may have been facing away from the action, but at least I got to look at something cool. Besides, we might need this axe to fight off ink monsters."

Brenda asked, "What's the skull for?"

"It'll make a nice conversation starter."

Anti-Wanda face-palmed. "Can we focus on saving Foop? We gotta get rid of the ink device before… Uh, I don't know what will find us, and I don't reckon I wanna know."

Silently, they crept out of the room and down the dark halls. The building was different than they'd last seen it. Thick black ink dripped down the walls, and Brenda and Bryson - unable to float like their companions - were knee-deep in it, which greatly slowed everyone down. Vladimir's rather tiny wings _somehow_ managed to keep him afloat, but Anti-Wanda wished, not for the first time, that she had her wand. But, it was probably saturated (wow, she didn't know she knew that word) in ink, along with Anti-Goldie's magic rattle, so there was really no point in searching right now.

Brenda shivered. "I feel like these cutouts are watching us."

Anti-Wanda mentally agreed. There were cardboard cutouts of Bobby everywhere. It was kind of weird. The sight of that black-and-white demon, with his fancy bowtie and gloves and sort of horn-shaped hair and signature smile, used to make her want to dance and sing along with the songs he used to sing and dance to. Now, the sight of her old favorite cartoon character was just unsettling.

For some reason, Bryson decided to take a selfie with one of the cutouts and send the picture to everyone on his phone. Brenda tried to wrestle the phone away so they could call for help but the phone ended up falling into the ink and… What was the word? Short-something? Well, it got all zappy.

"I don't think the warranty's gonna cover that," Anti-Goldie snarked.

Vladimir oinked at them from up ahead and flew into a room. The others followed and raced inside upon finding the ink device sitting exactly where they'd left it. They froze when a blob of ink spurted out of the hole on its end. They waited and sighed in relief when nothing else happened.

"Okay, we found the ink device," Anti-Wanda announced. "Now, let's break it, save Foop, and get our sorry rear-ends outta here."

Brenda tugged on her leg, as she tried to fly towards it. "Wait. I've seen enough horror movies to recognize this scenario."

"Speak redneck," Anti-Wanda requested.

Brenda restated in a fake Southern accent, "This here si-chee-ation's real dang bad, I reckon." She spat on the floor.

Anti-Wanda deadpanned, "Okay, I didn't ask you to patronize me."

"Sorry. Anyway, don't you guys think it's weird that we walked through the building, and nothing attacked us?"

Her words sank in, and they all looked around anxiously, half-expecting something to pop out of nowhere.

Bryson shook his head clear. "Gah! We're being silly." He handed his axe to his sister and waded through the ink, holding up his skull. "Let's just stick my head in it."

"Bryson," Anti-Goldie warned as he reached up to put the skull in the hole, "I'm starting to think that's not a good idea."

But, he had already shoved the skull in and taken a few steps back. The device clanked and sputtered, unable to work out the skull jammed into it like a cork to a bottle. Suddenly, it exploded, coating them all in a wave of ink and machine parts. Their injuries stung like nobody's business, but everything was silent. Did it work? Were they safe?

"Did you _really_ think it would be that easy?"

Apparently not.

Foop - still a weird ink monster, much to his friends' and mother's dismay - appeared to be walking _on top of the ink_ as he staggered up to them, stopping a few feet away and swaying on his feet. "The ink device may have revived The Great Bobby, but it is blood which will bring about his full power."

"Sweetie," Anti-Wanda half-spoke, half-sobbed, "you don't know what you're saying…"

"Snap out of it, man!" Anti-Goldie exclaimed.

The ink rippled, and they turned around. Something was rising up from the ink.

"He approaches," Foop announced reverently.

 **To Be Continued...**

* * *

 **Ah! I'm so evil! I just left you all hanging! I also forgot that there was a pentagram in the game. Maybe I'll incorporate that into the next part. Review, unless you want Bobby to eat you! Or, whatever he does...**


	26. Play the Cards You're Dealt

**Summary: Anti-Cosmo and HP set out to save Anti-Wanda and company from being sacrificed to a demon.**

 **Well, this is the last part of the tour, and I think it turned out pretty well. This contains things that won't make sense until I decide to explain them, so don't ask me to explain because of spoilers.**

 **Episodes Required Before Reading:**

 **Seperation Anxiety**

 **Bobby and the Ink Device**

* * *

 **Play the Cards You're Dealt**

" _Give it all just to find you; hold me, heal me, I will find you_ _._ " - _Salvation_ , Skillet

His family is in danger. They are somewhere that they will not return from. Not unless the monster is destroyed.

Last night, I tried to send him a warning of what was to come, of what would happen to them. It frightened him, but only because he mistook it for a night terror. If only I had another means of contacting him. Then, he could save them. He wouldn't be forced to bare the pain I did so long ago.

...Maybe there is a way.

But, I'll need some assistance.

* * *

The _swish_ of shuffling cards had always relaxed him, ever since he first discovered his Sight. Typically, he used his ability to predict the outcomes of business deals, decide whether or not to attempt hostile takeovers, ex cetera. But, today was one of those moments when the cards called to him. Like a pixie to a coffee pot, he was always helpless to their pull. When this happened, it always meant that something dreadful was coming.

His stomach was in knots, as he finished shuffling and put the first Tarot Card face-up on his desk. A woman with long gray hair and a formal gray dress stared back at him.

Grayscale; the Sister's card didn't come up often, but it always meant that She had an urgent warning for him.

Shuffle. The next card showed a man in a black cloak.

Black Magic; that usually meant a presence of evil.

Shuffle. The final card showed a skull and crossbones.

Death; he suppressed a shudder. That card never meant anything good.

He closed his eyes, as his skin tingled and the Sight took over.

 _An abandoned building with a sign that read "Don Whimsy Studios." A pentagram with four victims sitting tied up on its points. He recognized Anti-Wanda right away. A creature rising from a flood of black. Five victims, Anti-Wanda and Foop included, with the same black liquid shooting out of their mouths and eyes then falling into the inky substance on the floor. Their killer traveling the magical realms, growing more powerful with each death-_

HP felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, as the vision ended. A demon. An all-powerful _demon_. This was worse than last year's stock market crash. The Sister wanted him to stop it, but how? He was much better with denominators than demons. This was _far_ out of his comfort zone.

But, perhaps…

A knock at his office door interrupted his musings. He re-stacked his cards and called, "Come in," as he put them in his desk drawer.

Sanderson, his vice president and loyal companion, poked his head in. "I hope I'm not interrupting your Reading, sir."

"Just finished, actually."

Sanderson nodded and entered the room, closing the door behind him and flying up to the desk, a cup of coffee in his hand. "I figured you'd need a little energy boost. I know how Readings can wear you out, and this seemed like one you didn't have a choice in."

HP let a smile slip. This guy knew him too well. "Thank you, Sanderson." He took the mug and raised it to his lips. The familiar bitterness on his tongue and warmth in his stomach already calming him down. "You know, you picked the right time to come."

Sanderson raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'm going to schedule an appointment with Anti-Cosmo. When he gets here, please escort him to my office. I'd do it myself, but I have to prepare a few things."

"Today, HP?" Despite Sanderson's dark shades, HP caught a glimmer of surprise in the vice president's pale blue eyes. "Might I ask what exactly you Saw?"

Now, HP didn't let out this kind of information to just anyone, but Sanderson was one of the only...maybe six people he completely, whole-heartedly trusted. "Odds are, I don't have much time to explain. We'll talk later. Just bring Anti-Cosmo here. With any luck, he'll be here in ten minutes or less."

* * *

"So, HP told you nothing of why he needed me so suddenly?" Anti-Cosmo asked, as Sanderson escorted him through the dull and gray hallways. Some of the other pixies in the vicinity glanced curiously at the anti-fairy, but none of them really paid him any mind. "I thought you were his little confident."

Sanderson shrugged at the anti-fairy's sarcasm. "He said he'd fill me in later. All I know for certain is that whatever the boss Saw, it must have involved you somehow."

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow. "Saw? I don't know what in Darkness's name the man saw, I don't know what it could possibly have to do with me, and I'm quite certain that I don't give half a darn about it."

"...I'm talking about Sight, Anti-Cosmo."

It took a moment to register, but once it did, Anti-Cosmo's annoyance turned to curiosity. Sight was the pixie equivalent of noncorporeal magic. Although Anti-Cosmo didn't know very much about it, he did know that it allowed HP to look into the future and that the other pixies practically kissed the ground their boss flew over because of his ability. Seriously. They all thought the Sister of Grayscale could actually speak to the guy. The sheer religiousness of these pixies baffled him to no end.

Not that he would ever say that to their faces.

Personally, Anti-Cosmo wasn't all that into religion. It wasn't that he didn't believe in the Sisters. He just wasn't particularly active in worshipping the Sister of Darkness.

Anti-Cosmo was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice their arrival at HP's office, until Sanderson deadpanned, "Well, here we are." He knocked on the door. "Anti-Cosmo's here, sir," he called.

"Send him in," HP responded from inside.

Sanderson opened the door for him, and Anti-Cosmo flew inside, startled by the amount of...stuff on the usually organized Head Pixie's desk. As the door shut behind him, he snarked, "My, my. Is someone feeling a bit less OCD than usual?"

"Ha ha," HP drawled, trying to keep a...very disturbing-looking doll from falling off his desk. He failed, and it plopped down on the hardwood floor with a disjointed cry of " _Maaamaaaa…_ "

"Okay, I'm an anti-fairy," Anti-Cosmo stated. "I've seen some dreadful things and _that_ gave me chills just now. Do I want to know why you have all this?"

HP flew up to him. Though his expression was the typical pixie-brand of unreadable, there was a trace of fear in his gray eyes, as he described his vision. Anti-Cosmo's first reaction was interest, recognizing the name Don Whimsy from his childhood favorite show. Then, Anti-Wanda being seated on a _pentagram_ , of all things, was brought up, and ice-cold dread knotted his stomach.

Before the pixie could explain what the demon did to Anti-Wanda and Foop, Anti-Cosmo interrupted, "Okay, okay, I get it. This is bad." Putting his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking, he flew over to the pile of objects on the desk. "But, what makes you think any of this junk is going to help- Mother of Amy Lee's mother, _how'd that doll get back on the desk_?"

"Um…" HP forced his gaze away from the doll. "Well, I did some research on exorcisms, and these objects-"

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help laughing. "You actually went on the _Internet_ before coming to an anti-fairy? Stars above, you pixies put too much faith in technology. Let's poof down to the studio, and I'll show you how to perform an exorcism. I feel your piercing gaze, doll."

Thankfully, the doll didn't respond.

* * *

Well, vision or no vision, Don Whimsy Studios was disturbing in the best way. Dim lighting, cobwebs, dust, typical abandoned building things. Except for the flood of what HP had concluded was ink on the floor. That was unexpected, and Anti-Cosmo couldn't tell if that meant they were too late or not. Clutching his staff tighter in his hands, he was really rooting for "or not."

"Why exactly do you have that, again?" HP asked, eyeing the black staff. "It's a _stick_."

Anti-Cosmo bonked him on the head with it. "Be grateful for this stick, cone-head. I had to make it in a hurry, and you should be thanking your little goddess that I managed to get it done so fast. Do you know how hard it is to make a magic staff with a nervous spirit animal trying to figure out what you plan on doing with it? The last thing I want is to drag Kitty into this mess." The ink rippled below them. "We should probably hurry."

* * *

The ink rippled faster before morphing and taking on a humanoid shape. It grew and grew, nearly as tall as the ceiling, and suddenly Anti-Wanda knew who it was. Though its body was made entirely of ink, there was no mistaking that "cartoon character's" signature smile.

"B-B-Bobby?" she stammered, heart pounding so hard, she was surprised it wasn't exploding.

The ink beneath them rose up and coated the lower halves of their bodies, trapping them in front of the monster. The inky block that used to be Foop staggered up to the demon and drawled, "Master, I have your sacrifices."

"Ah, well done, my pet," Bobby said, his voice _much_ deeper and more menacing than the cartoon character Anti-Wanda was familiar with, It actually gave her chills listening to it.

"Shall I bring them to the pentagram, Sir?"

"No!" Bryson cried out, echoing all their thoughts. "I don't wanna be a sacrifice! I'm too pretty!"

Foop pointed to him. "Can you kill him first?"

If such a thing were possible, Bobby's grin seemed to get even wider. "Oh, I don't think that will necessary, pet. You have already been tainted by my power, so it's only fitting that _you_ are the first to die."

" _What_?" Foop screamed. "I-I am your prophet! I am your- _Augh_!" Foop writhed in pain, as the ink poured off of him, returning him to his usual appearance but sticking him to the ground like his companions.

Anti-Wanda struggled to breathe. "Foop! Sugarplum, are you okay?"

"I'd be better if we weren't in peril! And, if you'd stop calling me 'Sugarplum!'"

"Yeah, he's fine," Anti-Goldie stated, as if they _weren't_ about to be demon food.

Then, Anti-Wanda saw- What in Darkness's name were _they_ doing here?

"Sweet mother of Don Whimsy's mother!" Anti-Cosmo exclaimed from the other side of the room, clutching what appeared to be a Sate Staff. Or, maybe it was just a stick. She was hoping for the best, but _what the heck was he doing here_?

HP just floated next to him, gawking in horror. "Yep. This is what I Saw."

Bobby turned in their direction. "Ah, two more souls." Ink tried to suck them up, and Anti-Cosmo slashed at it with his staff, making it vanish in a cloud of smoke. Bobby roared in fury, and two inky hands grabbed his arms and held him down, a third hand taking hold of HP. "Pathetic. Is that the best you can do?"

* * *

This isn't what I'd expected to happen! They'll all die, now! Unless I help him.

* * *

Anti-Cosmo's eyes glowed, and he wrenched his arms free. Staff raised in his hands, he flew to the demon, relishing his sudden burst of power. He didn't know where it came from, and frankly, he didn't care. He aimed the staff at Bobby, only for the demon to grab him in a huge, gloved hand. The putrid odor of burning ink and the sound of sizzling flesh assaulted his senses, as the Sate Staff, as Anti-Cosmo expected, burned Bobby, who immediately released him. Anti-Cosmo took the opportunity to plunge the staff into his chest. The sound and smell nearly made him retch, but it was worth it. Bobby screamed and writhed, and ice-cold ink flowed from his mouth, coating Anti-Cosmo, who had too much adrenalin to really care right now. Bobby melted into black ink, and the ink around them evaporated, freeing them all.

Turning around, Anti-Cosmo smugly told HP, " _That_ is how you perform an exorcism."

"I...I'll keep that in mind," HP stammered, half-wondering if he would be able to profit from this.

" _Blech_!" Foop coughed. "My mouth tastes like death." Bryson slapped him in the back of his head, and he whirled on the Xye. "What the heck, man?"

Bryson poked his finger into the anti-fairy's forehead, screaming, " _Are you evil_?"

"Or, at least, less inky?" Anti-Goldie added with an eyeroll.

"Yes, I'm fine. Now, in the name of the Sisters, _don't_ bring it up again." As Vladimir ran in excited circles around him, Anti-Wanda wrapped her arms around Foop, cutting off his oxygen. "Personal...space…" he choked.

* * *

"I can't thank you enough," I tell her.

Arms crossed, she shrugs, ever the stoic one. "Well, yours doesn't listen. Mine does. Though, I do wonder. Why do you care if his family dies? It's him that you want alive, isn't it? Why care about the others?"

She doesn't understand. Then again, I hadn't really expected her to. "They don't deserve to die. Especially not in that way. Plus, I don't want him to feel that kind of pain."

"You know you can't protect him from everything. You never could, and you never will."

"I know. But, at least I can help him." This summer has been hard on him. Being away from his family hasn't helped. It's a good thing that their tour is over. Maybe now they can help him in matters that I cannot.

She purses her lips thoughtfully and leans against the wall. "You know, I've been thinking about this. What possessed Anti-Wanda to visit that studio on the way home?"

I blink, not really sure where she's going with this. "She was a fan of that show, and she wanted to show the children. What's strange about that?"

She nods. "Yes, I suppose that's true. But, what about the cartoon character?"

"What about it?"

"You and I both know that rumor about the ink device actually _working_ is a load. And, stuff doesn't come to life for no reason. It's a good thing that little concert tour is over. Poor guy's gonna need all the help he can get just to keep his sanity in tact.

" _Will you come to my rescue?_ _Am I left to die? But, I can't give up on you._ " - _Salvation_ , Skillet

 **The End…?**

* * *

 **I want to give that doll an episode. Or, at least running gag about it always being in HP's office. I'll have to think about this. Also, why do I headcanon pixies to use tarot cards? For some reason it just makes sense to me.**

 **So, yeah, tour's over, stuff's happening, and I'm not telling going to explain any of it just yet. Review, everyone!**


	27. Baby Blues

**Summary: Anti-Wanda and Anti-Dove rescue a fairy baby that was born an addict, and it makes them contemplate just how "good" fairies really are.**

 **So... I wrote the very first paragraph and thought, "Wow, this is _heavy_."**

 **It's not a very happy chapter; I'll say that. But, there's some world-building and some character interaction, and it is an important chapter. I do think you'll enjoy it. Well, time to play "Let's Make the Readers Cry and/or Punch Things!"**

 **Trigger Warning: substance abuse and...whatever else the summary implies.**

 **Episode Required Before Reading: New Friends, Old Stories**

* * *

 **Baby Blues**

"I hate fairies," Anti-Wanda seethed, stopping in front of Anti-Dove. "They think they're so pure and good." She turned her watery pink gaze to her friend. "Let me tell you something, Anti-Dove. If they're so perfect, then why did Darkness need us to keep them under control? Why do they shun us just for being _born_? And, for the love of rice, how could your horrible counterpart _leave her own child to die_?"

* * *

 _Two hours earlier…_

"I hate fairies," Anti-Wanda said cheerfully, as she carefully walked across the top of a fence. "They think they're so pure and good." She giggled when an anxious Anti-Dove poofed them into bluebirds. "I can see why they call you Anti- _Dove_. Get it? 'Cause a dove's a bird but it's also your name and you turned us into-"

"I get it." Perching next to her best friend on the fence, Anti-Dove looked around frantically. "I can't believe I let you drag me into this."

What was the harm, Anti-Wanda wondered. She had simply taken her friend to Fairy World so that they could prank some fairies. Anti-Dove worked too hard with all those crazies at the cuckoo hut or whatever it was called. It was her day off, and she deserved to have a little fun.

"Heck," Anti-Dove went on, "I just can't believe you managed to get us here at all."

Anti-Wanda grinned as well as she could with a beak. "I know, right? Them guards didn't see my hot dog launcher coming!"

"Yeah… Do I want to know why you own something that shoots _weiners_ , of all things?"

"Nope."

With that, she took off into the too-bright sky, and, rolling her maroon-colored eyes, Anti-Dove followed. She hated to admit it, but Anti-Wanda was right about this being fun. Sure, it was dangerous to be over the border between Fairy World and Anti-Fairy World, but what anti-fairy could resist a day of screwing with fairies?

After a few relaxing minutes of flight, Anti-Wanda nodded toward to the ground. "Hey, ain't that your counterpart?"

They perched in a tree next to a run-down apartment building. Anti-Dove looked through the window and recognized her fairy counterpart immediately. Dove's long brown hair looked like it had never seen a brush before, and her skin was paler than usual, making her freckles look darker by comparison. Her light brown eyes were wide with anger, and the size of her pupils told the anti-fairies watching that she was currently high as the clouds themselves. The stench of Darkness-knows-what shot out the open window, prompting the anti-fairies to cringe and put a wing over their beaks in disgust. And, was someone crying in there?

"One week," Dove slurred. "He had you one week ago, and he doesn't want you? 'Take care of our child,' he says. 'I figured you want her more than I do,' he says." She picked up something that was swaddled in a stained white blanket. "Stop crying! You won't feel anything, soon enough."

Carrying the bundle, she stumbled over to the window. The anti-fairies stared in shock at what was wrapped in the blanket. Stars above, it was a child. A little girl, who wriggled weakly as she sobbed in pain. Strands of brown hair stuck to the tears on her reddened face, as Dove nearly tripped trying to reach the window.

" _He had you one week ago…"_

Anti-Dove almost lost her breakfast. The girl wasn't a child; she was a _week-old fairy baby_. But...that couldn't be right. She had a humanoid body, and fairy and anti-fairy babies didn't grow into those until the age of five. But, she was so small and pale. Could she truly have been a _baby_? This hadn't been the first time that the ironically-named Dove Brightheart had gotten someone pregnant, but due to the old ban on fairy babies, they had all been aborted before.

Anti-Dove subconsciously placed a wing gently over her stomach. The ban had been lifted after the birth of Poof Cosma. This baby hadn't been aborted. Which meant-

Wait, what in Darkness's name was that junkee _doing_? Why was she holding the baby _out the fricking window_!? _Why was she letting go of the baby and floating away like nothing just happened_!?

Panicked, the anti-fairies quickly raised their wands and poofed up a large heap of pillows, and baby landed safely on top of them. Or, maybe not so safely. She wasn't crying anymore, wasn't making any sounds or even moving. Exchanging frightened looks, the anti-fairies poofed to the infant's side, now in their natural forms.

"Is she okay?" Anti-Wanda squeaked, clutching her wand in both hands and fighting back a wail of despair.

Heart hammering, Anti-Dove gently brushed the hair out of the baby's face. Her yellow eyes were dull and tearful, and she was quietly whimpering, but she was alive. "'Okay' is a relevant term."

"Wh-What does that mean?"

"It means she needs a doctor. _Fast_." Her medical training kicked in, and she slowly waved her wand in a circle above the infant, who gained a dark pink glow and seemed to calm down instantly.

"Tarnation," Anti-Wanda said, once Anti-Dove stopped casting. "What the whoosit was that?"

"I put her in a magical stasis," Anti-Dove replied. "We do that in the clinic to calm patients down if they get too rowdy. But, this is just a temporary relief. If I know my counterpart," her heart strained at what she was about to say, "then I wouldn't be surprised if this girl's a-" She swallowed hard.

Anti-Wanda's eyes sparkled with tears. "Please, don't say baby addict."

"I-I-I can't say for certain," Anti-Dove lied. "But, it's clear that she's really sick. We should take her to Fairy Urgent Care, and-"

"No!" Anti-Wanda snapped. "We can't take her to a fairy doctor! We's anti-fairies! Even _with_ a sick baby, they ain't gonna let us anywhere near there. They'll think we's trying to trick 'em with the sick baby card!"

She was right. They couldn't just show up there and expect any fairies to believe a word out of their mouths. Perhaps they could disguise themselves as fairies? No, that wouldn't work either. Other anti-fairies have tried that before, but all had been caught. They were in a bad part of Fairy World, where security was basically non-existent (which explained how no one had noticed them yet), but a hospital? Alarms would go off like nobody's business. A better idea would be to simply leave her close enough to the hospital that someone would notice-

No. Just...no.

"Can't you do something?" Anti-Wanda asked desperately. "You're a doctor. Why don't you doctor her?"

Anti-Dove shook her head. "I can't do anything without the proper medical supplies, and since I don't work in a traditional hospital, I don't have the clearance to just poof those up."

"Well... why don't we take her to an anti-fairy hospital?" Anti-Dove just stared at her. "What? We'd be allowed in there, and I know a great doctor we could take her to."

"Anti-Wanda, think about what you're saying. What anti-fairy, present company excluded, would even _consider_ taking care of a fairy? Baby or otherwise?"

* * *

Getting back over the border was easy enough. Just poof up some rump roast, and fairy guards are useless until they finish eating. Fortunately, they didn't have to worry too much about having to carry a glowing non-round fairy baby through Anti-Fairy World. Once they were over the border, Anti-Wanda simply poofed the three of them to Anti-Fairy Urgent Care. Once there, Anti-Wanda quickly found the doctor she'd been talking about. He was a muscular man with glasses and a nice face. Anti-Dove thought she recalled seeing his counterpart in a B-movie she'd hated.

Taking the baby in his arms and removing the stasis surrounding her, Dr. Anti-Studwell examined her briefly then sighed. "I've got good news and bad news. And, by that, I mean I have bad news."

"What's the good news?" Anti-Wanda asked.

Anti-Studwell ignored her. "I wanna help. I really do. But, I don't have much knowledge of fairy medicine. I could treat her the way I would an anti-fairy, but I can't say for certain if that would have any negative effects or not."

"Well, you've gotta _try_ ," Anti-Dove pleaded. "I have a medical degree. I can help."

Anti-Studwell narrowed his eyes. "I don't like anyone who doesn't work here touching our equipment."

Anti-Dove sighed. "Fair enough."

Anti-Wanda raised her hand. "Uh, I have a question. Why ain't she round?"

"Well, Anti-Wanda, if the father _did_ use any explicit substances while pregnant, like your friend here theorizes, then that would cause her to pass by the normal round-shape of other fairy babies. And, since most of the child's physical, mental, and magical development occur during that stage, this girl, uh, won't exactly...develop properly."

Anti-Wanda looked at Anti-Dove, who translated, "Her dad was jackoff who did drugs while pregnant, so his daughter has to suffer because of it."

Looking ready to either cry or murder said jackoff, Anti-Wanda begged, " _Please_ , Anti-Rip."

"I'll do what I can, but again, I'm not familiar with fairies, let alone baby ones, so I can't make any promises."

* * *

They were the only ones in the waiting room, and the only sounds were Anti-Wanda's footsteps, as she paced. Anti-Dove leaned her head back against the wall, not caring that the back of the chair she was sitting in was digging into the base of her skull. She shouldn't have been out here. She should have been helping with the baby.

Anti-Dove rested her hands over her stomach. Thirteen weeks. Thirteen weeks, and she would birth that baby's counterpart. Well, twelve weeks. The little one was a week old, right? Yeah, it would be twelve weeks until she was a mother. No abortion on the fairy-end meant no stillborns this time.

Unless the baby didn't- She refused to think about that.

"I hate fairies," Anti-Wanda seethed, stopping in front of Anti-Dove. "They think they're so pure and good." She turned her watery pink gaze to her friend. "Let me tell you something, Anti-Dove. If they're so perfect, then why did Darkness need us to keep them under control? Why do they shun us just for being _born_? And, for the love of rice, how could your horrible counterpart _leave her own child to die_?"

Anti-Dove could do nothing but meet her friend's intense pink gaze. The latter woman didn't even seem to notice the tears rolling down her face. "I don't know."

Anti-Wanda let out a bitter, shaky laugh at that and swiped at her eyes. "Of course you don't. They think we're the bad guys. We don't got drugs 'round these parts! Ya don't hear nothing 'bout that 'round here!" She plopped down in the seat next to Anti-Dove. "Ya ask me, it's them fairies that cause all the trouble. They can all rot in the Hocus Pocunos."

Anti-Dove frowned deeper, considering her friend's words. "I don't think _all_ fairies are bad. Yeah, there are some pretty bad ones, but can't you say the same for anti-fairies? Or, any species, for that matter?"

Bunching her jeans in her fists, Anti-Wanda nodded. "Yeah. It's just…" She stared miserably at the door Anti-Studwell had taken the baby into. "As a mother, I… I keep...picturing my son. Like...what if that were him in there? What if my little one was all drugged up against his will? What if he was dy- I-I mean sick." Anti-Dove grabbed her hand, the girls' wet eyes meeting. Anti-Wanda sniffed. "You're right. Not all fairies are bad. But, not all fairies are good either."

"You know," Anti-Dove said, "just because there aren't drugs in Anti-Fairy World doesn't mean that there aren't other things that can kill you. You're an exterminator. You deal with blood-thirsty beasts for a living."

Anti-Wanda chuckled a little. "True. Plus, we got non-addictive poisons, too. Them things'll kill you off right quick."

"Yep." Anti-Dove paused, thinking. "Although, I do agree with you on one thing; fairies do hate us for no reason. And, they don't seem to care if we suffer, as long as they don't have to deal with us."

Anti-Wanda nodded. "Why do ya s'pose they think we's so awful?"

"I've been wondering that for years, Anti-Wanda. And, I've come to the conclusion that they just don't understand our purpose."

"Purpose?"

"Yeah. We spread bad luck and general mischief, because without bad things, you can't have good things. A lot of people don't realize it, but you can't truly know happiness without things like frustration or anger or sadness."

Anti-Wanda smiled. "We're the balance."

Anti-Dove smiled back. "We're the balance. It's like story goes. Light's fairies spreaded chaos, Grayscale's pixies couldn't calm them down, so Darkness made us to create a balance."

Anti-Wanda's smile faded, as she glanced back at the door. "Wonder what's taking so long."

"Medical procedures take time, Anti-Wanda," Anti-Dove responded with a shrug. "Especially something this serious. And, don't forget, Dr. Anti-Studwell isn't a fairy doctor."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Anti-Wanda puffed out her cheeks. "Sometimes, I think about godkids, too."

Anti-Dove looked at her with crossed arms. "You mean Fairy GodChildren?"

"Yeah. Why do fairies get them? I remember last year, the Anti-Fairy Council tried out a 'Scary GodParent' program with Foop."

Anti-Dove blinked in surprise. "I never heard about that."

Anti-Wanda shrugged. "It was just an idea they had. They didn't tell no one about it 'til they got a test run in with Foop. Only reason I know about it is 'cause Foop told me. Then, he told Anti-Cosmo, who got kinda upset 'bout the Councilmen doing this without cons- consol- cones-"

"Consulting?"

"Thank you. Consulting him."

"So, what happened? Is Scary GodParenting ever going to come to fruition?" Anti-Wanda stared blankly at her. "Is Scary GodParenting ever gonna be a real thing?"

Anti-Wanda shook her head. "Doubt it. See, Foop got tangled up with some real nasty human gal. Poor little guy had nightmares for a week. Even worse, the Councilmen screwed with his bottle, so it would zap him when he didn't obey the girl."

"I can see why Anti-Cosmo was mad."

"Well, don't think I wasn't ticked. But, while I took time to comfort Foop, Anti-Cosmo went and chewed out the Councilmen. Not quite sure what he did to 'em, but they ditched the Scary GodParent idea faster than you can say 'wish.'" Anti-Wanda shrugged. "But, what can ya do? Seems like the only way for us to get godkids is to win that bake-off that pops up every year. I mean, we didn't win that war over GodChildren, so what are ya gonna do?"

Anti-Dove shrugged. "Not much, I guess. Though, what you said about the Council does prove my original point. Fairies may be bad sometimes, but anti-fairies can be just as bad." Perhaps worse, in that particular case.

The door opened, and the girls nearly bowled over Anti-Studwell before he could even let go of the doorknob. He cleared his throat. "I have good news and bad news, and this time I actually mean that. The good news is that the baby's responding surprisingly well to the treatment and should be able to bounce back from this." The girls nearly collapsed with relief. "The bad news is that she's going to have to live with certain...complications for the rest of her life." Well, given the circumstances, that was to be expected. "Plus, I can't quite predict what those complications will be."

"Drugs plus magic equals complete and utter randomness." Anti-Dove lamented.

Anti-Studwell nodded. "Pretty much. Anyway, there's another problem; what in Darkness's name do you two plan on doing with this kid?"

Oh. Um… The girls glanced at each other.

Anti-Studwell held up his hands defensively. "I know, I know. It's not my business, but seriously, ladies, what the heck is the plan, here? And, come to think of it, where are this kid's parents? Where do they fit into this equation?"

Anti-Wanda put a hand on her hip. "Well, ain't this just a son of a rat. What got a little tyke, whose parents is both druggies," Anti-Studwell's red eyes widened at that, "and who's a fairy in Anti-Fairy World."

"Well, if what you just said about the parents is true," Anti-Studwell said, "then perhaps the best course of action is to wait until she recovers fully then find an orphanage or a foster home somewhere to-"

"What if I adopted her?" Anti-Dove asked. The others looked at her like she'd lost her marbles. "I know it sounds...weird. But, think about it. It wouldn't be easy to find parents who are willing to take in a child with medical needs that we can't even predict, and I'm going to be having her counterpart anyway, so why not?"

Anti-Studwell scratched the back of his neck. "Uh...That's… An-An anti-fairy? Raising a fairy? In Anti-Fairy World? How would that even work?"

Honestly, she had no idea. But, she didn't think she'd be able to sleep at night, not knowing what happened to this child. "I'd figure it out."

"Er, okay. Well, um, frankly, I'm not even sure if this is allowed."

"Why don't we ask?" Anti-Wanda raised her wand, and her very confused husband appeared next to her. "Howdy, honeypot!"

Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow. "Um, hello, dear. Why am I at what appears to be a hospital?"

"We gots a legal question, and you're the big shot 'round these parts, so I figured you's the best guy to ask."

Anti-Dove explained the situation to him, watching him go from disgust ("Blech. Figures _your_ opposite would be the most nauseating thing in the universe.") to anger ("Wait, wait, wait. She tossed _what_ out the window? Did I not just call her the most nauseating thing in the universe?") to disgust again (" _Fairies_. They think there are no consequences for their actions. No wonder Darkness created us to quell them! Garbage with wings, that's what they are.").

When she asked about adopting the baby, Anti-Cosmo laughed. Not a disbelieving chuckle. More like a "this is the funniest thing I've ever heard" laugh. Fortunately, he had the common sense to sober up, when he noticed the glares from the women in the room. "By Jove, you're serious. Um…" He glanced pleadingly at Anti-Studwell, who shrugged helplessly. "Anti-Dove," Anti-Cosmo continued carefully, "you know I trust you. And, I know you're a good caretaker, because you work in a psych ward, and, by association, with my father, who seems rather fond of you, to say the least. But- Now, there's no law that I can think of that would prevent you from becoming the child's guardian, but think this through. Fairy. Anti-Fairy World. It's like trying to mix oil and water. It just doesn't work. Can't you just stick the kid in an orphanage or something?"

" _Thank you_ ," Anti-Studwell huffed.

"Anti-Cosmo," Anti-Dove pleaded, "I'll admit that I'm being really impulsive, and I have no idea whatsoever what I'm getting into, but… As weird as it sounds, I'd-I'd like to raise that fairy in there."

Anti-Wanda added, "Plus, she's gonna have the little one's counterpart anyhow."

Anti-Cosmo ran a hand through his hair. "This is weird. But, I guess I can't really stop you." He looked over at the shell-shocked doctor. "Well, don't just float there with your mouth hanging open. Do whatever it is you're paid to do, and I'll go find someone willing help the adoption process without stupidly laughing his lungs out, like I did."

Anti-Studwell glanced at the three of them, then shrugged and poofed out of the room.

Anti-Cosmo clicked his tongue and adjusted his monocle. "Just so you know, Anti-Dove, I still think you're as daffy as the nuts you work with," he said before poofing away, leaving the girls to themselves.

Anti-Wanda smiled at her friend and took her hand. "I like what you're doing. You'll be a good mom, and, if you need a sitter, I'm always available. Except when I'm not."

Anti-Dove grinned then frowned as another thought came to her. "Anti-Wanda, I just realized. Do you think that her counterpart will be in perfect health or have some sort of condition as well?"

Shrugging off her friend's worries, she said, "I'm sure everything'll work out."

 **The End**

* * *

 **Well, that happened. We'll be seeing the baby and her counterpart soon enough. I really need to write something happy just give you guys a break. And, because all hell's going to break loose pretty soon. Review!**


	28. Mama's Boy

**Summary:** **Upon discovering that Anti-Cosmo has issues with his mother, Foop decides to track her down and get them to make up, unaware of just how much the bad blood there is between them.**

 **Remember when I promised you all a happy chapter? Uh... It's happier than the previous one. That's something. If it's any consolation, there's this one scene with the pixies that I'm pretty proud of. Let's just say that Sanderson and Foop should have their own sitcom.**

 **Trigger Warning: Domestic abuse**

 **Episode Required Before Reading: Down the Rabbit Hole**

* * *

 **Mama's Boy**

It was Saturday, which meant no school, which meant that Foop just wanted some much needed alone time. Unfortunately for him, his mother had other plans. As he sat in his room, leaning up against a sleeping Vladimir and playing Minimon Lunar on his Wandendo 3DX, she decided that, just as he was about to beat the third boss, it would be a swell idea to plop something kind of heavy on his head.

Vladimir woke up but didn't move, and Foop groaned in annoyance. "Give me a minute to beat this boss and save my game." He did so (not without a triumphant fist pump) and turned off his 3DX. He poofed away his game console and crossed his arms. "Okay, Mother, what's on my head, and would you be so kind as to remove it from my head? It's giving me a headache."

Anti-Wanda lifted the thing off his head and showed it to him. "Ya know what this is, sugar plum?"

"A: stop calling me 'sugar plum.' And, B: it appears to be a large, dusty book."

"A: I will never stop calling you that. And, Q: it ain't just any ol' book, Foop. This here's an old scrapbook I found in the attic. You wanna see some embarrassing pictures of your father?"

Foop grinned. "Do I?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

Foop patted the space next to him. "I totally do!"

Anti-Wanda plopped down beside him. Vladimir waddled to her other side and sat down, apparently as curious as his square master. Anti-Wanda opened the book to a random page and pointed to a picture of two boys - one of them still in his cubic form - playing a board game. "This looks like your daddy and your uncle, Anti-Schnozmo, playing Scrabble."

"Wow. Dad liked that game, even then, huh?" Foop commented. Then, a certain picture caught his attention. It featured his looney, amnesiac grandfather, Anti-Clark (obviously, long before he lost his marbles), grinning ear-to-ear and holding one arm out of the camera's range, like he was the one taking the picture. His other arm was wrapped around a chubby but pretty woman who was giving the camera a cool, relaxed smile. Foop pointed to the woman. "Hey, who's this lady?"

Did his mother tense up? Maybe he'd imagined it. "Oh, that's your Grandma Anti-Bethany. Your daddy's mommy."

"Really?" Huh. Other than their hair color, they didn't seem to have much in common physically. Personality, perhaps? "How come I've never met her?"

So, she _had_ tensed up. "Uh, your pa and nana… They don't really get along that great."

Interesting. Foop raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" She blinked at him. "Care to explain?"

Anti-Wanda frowned deeper. "Hun, some things ain't my things to explain. If your daddy wants you to know, he'll tell you."

"I'm just a bit confused, is all. I mean, you and I are mother and son, and we're, as Forrest Gump would say, like peas and carrots."

"Well, yeah, but not all parents and kids get along like we do. And, there's all kinds of reasons. You'll just have to ask him yourself."

"You seem like you know why."

"I do, and I don't. It's kinda hard to explain. You can ask him, but don't be surprised if he don't feel like talking about it. Now, put it outta your head, and look at this here picture of your daddy in the bathtub!"

"Mother, I don't want to put it out of my head! I want to- Oh. Oh, that is blackmail material if I ever saw it!"

* * *

Foop knocked on the door to his father's private study. Anti-Cosmo, covered from head to toe in purple goo, floated out into the hall and closed the door behind him. Seeing his son's befuddlement, he said, "Don't ask." He poofed himself clean. "Did you need something, dear boy?"

Shaking off the new questions in his head, Foop cleared his throat. "Yes, well, Mother and I were going through some old photos-" He snorted. "Love you in the tub, by the way." His father scowled. "Anyway, I have something to ask you."

"Was I aware of that picture being taken? No. Not until my stupid dad put it in his stupid scrapbook."

"Actually, Mother mentioned that you and your mother don't get along, and I was wondering why-"

Anti-Cosmo put a hand out in front of him. "Stop. Son, I understand you're curious, but I'd really rather not get into it. My mother and I have some issues with each other, and that's all I'm comfortable saying." Gross suckling noises came from inside the study. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put something back in its cage." He bolted back into the room, slamming the door in his son's face.

Foop hummed in thought. Now, his curiosity was peaked. And, honestly, he just couldn't comprehend how a mother and son could dislike each other. He and his friends (minus Crocker, whose family was filled to the brim with weirdos) got along great with their parents. Why not his father and grandmother?

Someone coughed behind him, and he turned around. "Foop," Kitty said, "I couldn't help overhearing, and I think you might be treading troubled waters."

Foop crossed his arms. "Explain."

"Look, your grandma… Let's just say that she never really-"

"Wait a minute!" Foop snapped. " _You_ know about this, and _I_ don't? I can see my mother knowing, but _you_?"

Kitty shrugged. "It just kinda came up one day. Anyway, I don't think you wanna mess with this." Crashes and Anti-Cosmo's screams came from his study. "I should probably help him with that." She flew to Anti-Cosmo's rescue, leaving Foop to his thoughts.

* * *

If there was one thing that every pixie in the world hated, it was being interrupted during his lunch break. Well, that and the coffee machine being broken. _Which it was_. Naturally, Sanderson thought, _that_ would be the day when something stupid would happen. He sighed and, grudgingly leaving his Chinese food on the break room table, pinged to the main hallway, where the all the screaming was coming from. He was surprised to see Anti-Cosmo's kid being hauled off by Carson, one of their security guards. What was the kid's name again? Anti-Poof, right? Either way, the kid was wiggling a lot in the large pixie's arms and calling Carson a "spider-sucker," which, given the context, was probably an anti-fairy swear word.

Ordinarily, Sanderson would have just shook his head and returned to his lo mein, but the boy was going on about wanting to talk to the Head Pixie. Hm. Did this have something to do with Anti-Cosmo? If it did, HP would want to know about it. Ignoring his growling stomach (the _one_ day he'd skipped breakfast…), Sanderson flew up to the more muscular pixie. "What seems to be the problem, Carson?"

"Caught this kid trying to break into the boss's office," Carson informed.

Anti-Poof huffed. "I wasn't trying to break in. I was succeeding, and, I would have gotten away with it, if weren't for you, ya meddling pencil pusher."

"Put him down," Sanderson said. "I'll deal with this."

Carson blinked, the only indication of his confusion. "You sure?"

Sanderson pointed to the floor in response. Carson shrugged, sat the child on the ground, handed the kid's magic bottle to Sanderson, and flew away.

Anti-Poof called after him, "Yeah, you better float away! You will rue the day you crossed me, you spider-sucking dummy-butt! I'll burn you! This floor will be lava!" He took a deep breath turned around. "Thanks, Stevenson. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"My name is Sanderson," the pixie said, holding the bottle out of the child's reached. "Now, what in Grayscale's name are you doing here?"

Anti-Poof gave up trying to grab his bottle. "I'm not _trying_ to cause trouble, if that's what you're insinuating. I just need to know someone's address, and I know that you pixies have information on everyone in the universe. Or, at least close to that. Now, take me to your leader!"

"You realize he's not even here."

"Say what now?"

"Our coffee machine is broken, so he went out to get himself some. But, if you really this address at this very moment, I can probably hook you up."

Anti-Poof gave him a suspicious once-over. "Why are you making with the nice? What's your angle, _Sandy_?"

"Don't call me 'Sandy.' And, my angle is that I wanna get back to my break before my lunch gets cold." Which, Sanderson thought bitterly, it probably was by now. He pinged the two of them to his cubicle and logged on to his computer. "What's the person's name?"

Anti-Poof frowned in thought. "Uh, what was it? Try Anti-Bethany Anti-Cosma. Though, I don't know if she still uses that last name or not."

"She does," Sanderson replied as a woman's picture appeared on the screen, "assuming this is the right person."

Anti-Poof smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I think that's her." He took a sticky note and pen from Sanderson's desk - without asking - and wrote down the address. "Thanks, man. You can get back to your break now."

Sanderson held out his hand. "Can I have my pen ba-" _Poof!_ He lowered his hand. "Guess not."

Now that _that_ nonsense was cleared up, he pinged himself back to his lunch (still warm, thank the Goddess) and found HP with a paper bag in one hand and a paper coffee cup in the other. "Hey, Sandy." He handed them to his vice president. "I brought you a latte and an everything bagel."

Sanderson swallowed back a grin. "Thanks. I haven't eaten yet, because something stupid happened."

"Oh?" HP picked up the paper cup, obviously containing his own coffee, that had been on the counter next to him and took a sip.

Sanderson sat his cup on the counter. "Yeah." He pulled the pre-cut bagel out of the bag, noting happily that his boss had also gotten him the cream cheese he liked, and put the two halves in the toaster. "Anti-Cosmo's kid showed up." HP raised an eyebrow, silently asking for details. Sanderson shrugged. "I don't know the whole story. He just kind of showed up and asked for the address of an Anti-Bethany Anti-Cosma."

HP's gray-violet eyes widened. "Did you give it to him?"

"...Today's not my day, is it?"

HP pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You didn't know this, so it's not your fault. But-" He was interrupted by the bagel popping back up, filling the air with the smell of onion and toasted poppy seeds. "Long story short, Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Bethany aren't exactly on the best of terms. I'd say more, but I'm sworn to secrecy. Hey, do you know if anyone's eating that lo mein over there?"

Now spreading the cream cheese on the bagel, Sanderson replied, "Take it. My friend gave me a bagel." Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his boss crack a smile. Whether it was at the friend-comment or the free food, Sanderson wasn't sure, but he was hoping for the former.

* * *

Foop couldn't tell whether he was nervous or excited. Maybe both, as he grabbed his father by the hand and dragged him to the living room.

"Mother of the Head Pixie's mother, Foop," Anti-Cosmo said. "Will you please tell me who this friend of yours is?"

"Oh, I think you're already familiar with the woman in question," he said mysteriously.

"Do I want to know what that means?"

Foop let go of him as they flew into the living room. "Hey, he's here."

The anti-fairy on the couch looked up at them and smiled, though it didn't quite reach her dark red, almost black eyes. She spoke with a slight British accent. "Hello, Anti-Cosmo."

Foop looked up at his father and immediately deflated upon seeing how...something the man was. He couldn't quite read the expression, but it wasn't a happy one. A fact which was made all the more obvious, when he grabbed his son's hand and flew him through the house and into his room, saying "no" in rapid-fire succession and gesturing wildly with his free hand the entire time. Just when Foop thought his brain would melt if he heard that two-letter word one more time today, his father brought them into his son's room and slammed the door behind them.

He whirled on his suddenly frightened child, livid. "You have thirty seconds to tell me what _that_ is doing here. Go."

Foop swallowed hard, fighting to keep himself from shaking. "Uh-"

"Twenty-eight seconds."

"But, I just wanted you to be happy!" It was cheesy, but he was too scared to censor his mush. "I thought, if I brought Nana here, then you guys could patch things up. _Don't hurt me_!"

Anti-Cosmo softened considerably. "You know I'd never hurt you."

Foop looked at anything but the hurt in his father's eyes. Darn magic of guilt. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Uh, look, son," Anti-Cosmo said calmly. "Your heart is in the right place, and I won't punish you for only trying to help. That said, my relationship with my mother is...sort of beyond fixing."

Foop growled in frustration. "This is dumb! I try to do something _nice_ for once in my life, and you don't even appreciate it!"

Anti-Cosmo rubbed his brow. "It's not that I don't appreciate your attempt, dear boy-"

"Then, humor me, man! Do you know how hard it was to get her here? It wasn't just convincing her to come, oh no! I was nearly mauled by a pixie the size of a bear! Whoops. You weren't suppose to hear that last part."

"Erm… We'll talk about that later." He sighed. "I can see that this means a lot to you, so I guess I'll...speak with my mother. But, I'm not promising anything."

Foop nodded, pacified. "That's all I ask."

* * *

She was still sitting there, when Anti-Cosmo got back. She looked perfectly innocent, tight curls piled up on her head in an unnecessary updo, dark purple dress that flowed like water every time she moved. Oh, but it was all a facade. He knew that like he knew his own name.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, Mother."

Anti-Bethany floated over to him, her plastic smile gone, now that she wasn't trying to fool anybody. "You are not my child."

"Yeah, I do believe we've taken enough DNA tests to contradict that statement." She scowled deeper, if such a thing was possible. "Look, my son- _your grandchild_ \- wants us to talk things over. I, personally, would rather frolic through a field of four-leaf clovers, but I promised him I'd make an effort to appeal to your sense of kindness and your motherly instinct. Do you actually have those things?"

His mother chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, Anti-Cosmo. You know I only give those things to Anti-Schnozmo."

He glowered at her. "I noticed. Which tells me that you do possess those traits. You just reserve them for your first-born."

"Well, perhaps, if you hadn't been forced upon me-"

"I don't see how it's my fault that anti-fairies end up birthing fairy-baby counterparts. A fairy is born, and, thirteen weeks later, poof! You're a mommy! One could argue that my brother was forced upon you-"

"Do not call him your brother! I have one child, and his name is Anti-Schnozmo!"

"You have _two_ children, and the other one is named Anti-Cosmo!"

"That may be what's written on paper, but-"

"Why are we even arguing about this? It's basic biology, woman! Will you stop pretending that I'm not your son?"

"I don't care what you or any DNA test says. A mother always knows her child, and _you_ are nothing more than a parasite that grew inside me until-"

"YOU THINK I ASKED TO BE BORN?" Growing up, he hadn't so much as flipped her the bird when her back was turned. He hadn't told his brother, because she was so sweet to Anti-Schnozmo. He hadn't told his father, because the man, even after the divorce, only saw her cruelty once and mistook it for the result of a heated custody battle. He hadn't told Barkley, his father's squirrel Spirit Guide, because Barkley would have maimed her by conjuring the world's prickliest cactus or something. His friends didn't know. No one in his family knew. HP had found out by random chance, and it took a lot of convincing to keep him quiet about it. Anti-Cosmo hadn't wanted to plague anyone else with his problems. Well, you know what they say about bottling your emotions, and his bottle had been plugged up for nearly ten thousand years. "You think I asked your and Dad's counterparts to have sex? You think I asked the Goddess to create me? NO! I bleeding _didn't_! Yet, you hated me the second I came out of the womb. I put up with _everything_ , because I was a stupid child, and I thought that you could learn to love me. Oh, what a fool I was! I was young, naive, and desperate for a mother's heart. I was jealous of Anti-Schnozmo. Jealous, because you showered him in love, and what did you give _me_?" No answer. Just a startled look on her face and a flinch when he screamed, "ANSWER ME!"

Anti-Bethany regained her composure after a moment and cautiously backed away a bit. Just when he thought he was getting through to her, the coldness in her eyes made another crack in the dam behind his own. "Okay, calm down. There is no need for this nonsense."

"Nonsense? _I'm_ being nonsensical? _Me_?" He yanked his shirt over his head, giving a full view every jagged scar on him, representatives of everything she put him through (and the star-shaped scar from his fagiggly gland transplant, but that one wasn't important). Someone inhaled sharply. Was that her or was it coming from behind him? He didn't care at the moment. "This. _This_ is nonsense! I endured beatings and insults and that little enchanted whip you liked oh-so very much, because I wanted you to love me! I was nothing but kind to you, and all I got out of it was pain!" His vision was blurry. He mentally begged the dam to hold together. She would not get the satisfaction of seeing him cry. "Why? Why do you hate me so much?"

His mother took her time. Cruel as she was, she knew when she was treading troubled waters, and these particular waters lead to a _very_ rocky shore. But, she was taking too long, and Anti-Cosmo felt an internal bomb being reset.

"Nothing to say?" he asked darkly. Ten… Nine...

Anti-Bethany regained her composure enough to conjure up her- Oh, Goddess. "You really want to know?"

"Put. The whip. Down." Eight… Seven…

"When I first looked into your eyes, I saw something. Something not quite right." Six… Five… "I couldn't make out what exactly it was at the time, but it didn't sit well with me."

"Put it down, Mother." Four…

"Oh, no. You're no son of mine. My son doesn't have unending evil in his eyes!"

"Woman, I am your ruler, and you will put that down, if you value your existence."

Instead of doing what he asked, she had the nerve to _raise it_ , preparing to strike and bringing up his old fears. Three… "How a creature as dastardly as you became ruler in the first place is beyond me."

"Make a move," Anti-Cosmo growled. "I dare you."

She swung her arm down, but the blow didn't come. In its place was a loud, achingly familiar cry of, "NO!" before something shoved him to the ground. He felt no pain from the impact, because the pain brought to him by the following _crack_ and scream hurt a thousand times worse.

Two…

His monocle had fallen off. He picked it up and placed it back over his bad eye and quickly regretted doing so. Anti-Bethany looked positively stunned, even dropped her weapon in shock. Foop - Sweet Darkness, how long had he been listening? - crouched down where his father had once been floating, blood trickling from just above his brow, face contorted in agony, violet eyes welling up. "Oh, spider-sucking bat dung!" He moaned through gritted teeth. "Son of a werewolf! And, other pained yet censored curses!"

A tear slipped through the cracks and down Anti-Cosmo's cheek. His son… His brave, stupid little boy...had taken the blow for him. His heart shattered, and his soul used the broken pieces for kindling. An ordinary whip would have been painful enough. An enchanted one, like hers? Pure, unrelenting, scar-inducing agony. Anti-Cosmo knew from experience.

His own mother...used it on his child.

One…

A choked, painful sob erupted from Foop's throat.

Boom.

* * *

Anti-Wanda didn't know why Kitty was fidgeting so much. They were gardening. The Spirit Guide usually loved doing that. Planting a seed in the dirt, the anti-fairy asked, "Something wrong, Kitty? You look like a dung beetle that done lost its shoes."

"I'll never understand what you just said," Kitty replied, stealing another glance at the castle. "Anti-Cosmo's upset. Like, _really_ upset."

Anti-Wanda paused in her work. "Oh. Can you tell what's wrong?"

"Not really."

"Can you tell if it's one of them times when he wants comfort or when he just wants us to give him space?"

Kitty shrugged. "I'm still figuring out the difference. I think he wants comfort, but don't quote me on that."

A loud _crack_ and a scream pierced the air.

Motherly instinct kicked in. Anti-Wanda grabbed Kitty by the arm. "We're going in there."

* * *

Growling like a feral wolverine, Anti-Cosmo shakily got to his feet. He felt his eyes burn with a magical glow. Anti-Bethany trembled at the sight. Oh, how he relished how small and pathetic she suddenly appeared. It was a beautiful role reversal. His chest tingled with the need to see his former tormentor suffer.

There was so much to say to her, but the most his fury would allow was, "You. Hit. Him."

"I-I-I'm sorry." She breathed. "I didn't mean to-"

"SILENCE!" Wind swirled through the room, sending objects flying in angry circles.

He cast a shield around his cowering child, unwilling to let the boy be hurt any worse. "Dad!" Foop called. "Daddy, you need to calm down!"

But, Anti-Cosmo didn't hear him. In that moment, all he cared about was revenge. And, he knew how to do it. He raised his hand, and sickly green ribbons of magic swirled around Anti-Bethany, blocking her from escaping. His mouth curled into a twisted grin. He wanted- No, he _needed_ to hear her scream, to make her beg for mercy that would never come. He summoned the whip into his hand-

" _Ow_!"

-and turned his head toward the noise. Anti-Wanda and Kitty stood in the doorway, the former clutching her arm, her eyebrows pinched and her crooked teeth clenched in pain. Silver leaked from her open wound. A piece of bloody glass flew by him.

Oh, Darkness, he'd cut his wife!

The wind stopped, the flying furniture and debris crashed into the floorboards, the shield lifted from Foop, and Anti-Bethany could move again. Anti-Cosmo wished that looks really could kill, because the one he gave his so-called mother would have ended her then and there. His voice was eerily calm. "I suggest you leave while you still have all your limbs attached. If you return, you will not leave with all your limbs attached. Is that clear?"

Anti-Bethany swallowed hard and nodded, fumbling with her wand and poofing - _*fear!*_ \- her sorry rear-end out of there.

Anti-Cosmo allowed himself a few shaky breaths, composing himself enough to tend to his wife. Or, his son. Or- Um…

"I'm-I'm fine," Anti-Wanda said. Her eyes widened, as she and Kitty raced to Foop's side. "Sugar plum! What happened to you?"

"I told you to stop calling me- _Don't touch it_! Oh Goddess, that burns like fire!" Foop squealed. He quickly wiped his eyes and muttered, "Stupid reflexive tear ducts."

Anti-Cosmo wanted to help. He needed to. But, he was frozen. His wife was bleeding, his son was in terrible pain...and it was his fault. He'd hurt his family. He was no better than his mother.

As Anti-Wanda conjured herself a first-aid kit and nurse's outfit - and she and Foop began arguing over who was treating whom first - Kitty looked at him wide, nervous eyes. "Uh, Anti-Cosmo, what's with the...?"

"Don't look at me," Anti-Cosmo demanded, turning away and poofing himself into a white long-sleeve shirt. The last thing he needed right now was to explain why he was covered in old scars.

(Actually, while the scars were worth worrying about, Kitty had been referring to the glowing green web-like pattern that had appeared on his chest, but she was the only one who noticed it. She didn't sense it to be anything dangerous, so she shrugged it off as a by-product of non-corporeal magic.)

Anti-Wanda rolled her eyes and groaned, bringing them both back to the present. "For the love of Texas barbecue, Foop! I'm fine. Look, I'll prove it." She touched her wand to her cut and magicked the injury away. "There, see? All better. Boo-boo gone bye-bye. Now, let's fix you up." She waved her wand, but nothing happened.

"The weapon had an enchantment on it," Anti-Cosmo informed solemnly, still unable to look any of them in the eye. "You can't just poof it away. It'll have to heal on its own."

Anti-Wanda looked at Foop then back at her husband. "Did you say 'weapon?' And, 'enchantment?' In the same sentence?"

"Blood is dangerously close to my eye, over here!" Foop snapped, protecting his eye with his hand.

Silence followed as Anti-Wanda and Kitty worked together to patch the boy up, and Anti-Cosmo continued to silently berate himself for being a bad parent and husband. After Foop's injury was covered by a large bandage (and, of course, kissed by Anti-Wanda), Anti-Cosmo found his voice. "I'm sorry." He felt three gazes on him but couldn't bring himself to meet any of them. "I let my temper slip and frightened you all. And, harmed one of you."

"Honey, look at me." He hadn't realized that his wife had approached him until he felt her calloused hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet her gentle bubblegum gaze. "You didn't mean nothing. I fixed myself right-quick. So, you got a little, um…"

"Cuckoo bananas?" Kitty offered.

"Yeah, that. Don't beat yourself up, babycakes."

Anti-Cosmo lowered his head and closed his eyes. Letting out a depressed sigh, he grabbed his wife's wrist and lowered her hand off his cheek but didn't quite want to let go of her hand just yet. Didn't she understand that he _had_ to beat himself up? He wasn't going to lie; he knew he was evil. He had no problems with lying, backstabbing, or flat-out using brute force if it got him what he wanted. But, his family deserved much, much better. And, look what had just happened. They'd finally seen him at his absolute worst. He had been ready to kill Anti-Bethany, his own mother, and his three favorite people in the world had seen it, seen the madness in his eyes, the fury in his magic-

"Why are _you_ moping?" Foop asked sternly, making his father look at him in confusion. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. None of this would've happened, if I'd just heeded everyone's warnings and not gotten involved."

Anti-Cosmo shook his head. "Son, you shouldn't blame yourself-"

Foop crossed his arms. "Said the pot to the kettle."

Anti-Wanda put a finger to her chin. "Wait, the kitchenware can talk?"

Kitty coughed into her fist. "Uh, Anti-Wanda why don't we go take care of...that thing?"

"What thing?"

"Oh, you know…" Loud slurping-sounds came from the hallway. "Oh, yeah. I forgot all about that thing. I mean, _that_ thing! That's the thing we need to take care of." Without waiting for a response, she yanked Anti-Wanda out of the room, giving the boys their privacy.

After a moment, Anti-Cosmo let out a breathy laugh. "I don't know whether to thank you for taking that blow for me or call you an idiot for doing so."

Foop smiled sheepishly. "Might I suggest both?"

Merciful Goddess, this kid. Anti-Cosmo wrapped his arms around his child and held him tightly, protectively. "My brave little twit." He noticed his son wiping his eyes again and held the boy closer. "Don't cry, dear boy. Daddy's got you."

"I'm not crying. Your chin is _poking into my boo-boo_! It _hurts_!"

"Oh!" He half-pushed his son away from him. "Sorry! Terribly sorry!"

Foop glared at him for a moment then softened. "I won't do it."

Anti-Cosmo blinked. "Won't do what?"

"That photo of baby you in the tub. I'm not gonna use it for blackmail."

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help it. He burst into laughter and soon both of them were howling like idiots. "Why-Why are we laughing?" Anti-Cosmo asked when they eventually calmed down.

Foop just grinned and shrugged. "Because, we're both morons?"

His father rolled his eyes at the answer then frowned. "In all seriousness, I truly am sorry you-"

"Stop. Stop feeling bad. We both did stupid things today, alright? Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, I say we hunt down Nana and get our revenge. We will make her long for death!"

Anti-Cosmo laughed, feeling immensely better, and hugged his son once more, mindful of the boy's injury. "I love you, you little brat."

Suddenly, the girls ran by them, screaming their heads off. Anti-Wanda yelled, "The thing multiplied!"

Soon, all four of them found themselves being chased by a hoard of purple goo creatures.

* * *

Deep in the woods of Anti-Fairy World was tunnel, hidden by millennia of neglect. In the deepest part of that tunnel was a large green gemstone. It pulsed with a vibrant glow.

Then, a small crack appeared in its surface.

 **The End**

* * *

 **I don't know what's chasing them, and I don't want to.**

 **So, I've got this big special episode coming up, but there's some stuff that needs to happen first. I'm thinking two, maybe three episodes before the game changer I have planned. You'll know it's coming when a total weirdo shows up. You'll figure out who it is. So, for now, review!**


	29. Par for the Course

**Summary:** **A game of golf turns sour when a creepy little girl starts hitting on Anti-Cosmo and HP.**

 **Ah, a silly, humorous chapter after a long string of angst and-**

 **Why is it that every time I try to write a silly chapter, it turns into an angst bomb!?**

 **Episode Required Before Reading: Bad Luck of the Irish; Mama's Boy**

* * *

 **Par for the Course**

Putting Anti-Cosmo in the same room as his mother was like putting a caffeine-deprived pixie in the same room as broken coffee machine. Bad idea. _Really_ bad idea. Seriously. What was Foop thinking?

Well, either way, after a visit from a - ahem - female dog like Anti-Bethany, HP figured the poor anti-fairy probably needed some guy time. And, frankly, that broken coffee machine in the break room had been a thorn in HP's side all day. Grabbing a mocha at Skybucks had only been a temporary relief.

Okay. Now, he just sounded like some kind of caffeine addict.

The point is, both of them needed a break, so HP had called him up and suggested a checking out a golf course that had just opened in some Earth town called Muckledunk. Golf wasn't Anti-Cosmo's favorite pastime, but he liked it enough to agree to a game. Also, neither of them were very good without cheating, so this would probably take a while. Oh, well. It was nice to get away from their problems for a day.

So, they arrived at the course, clad in polo shirts and poofing and pinging up some golf clubs, ready to start a game that may or may not take all day.

Anti-Cosmo leaned on his golf club, already looking bored out of his mind. "So, old bean, might I ask why you suddenly invite me for a jaunt in the golf course?"

Positioning his ball on the mat, HP shrugged. He wasn't going to admit to being worried about his old friend. He didn't want Anti-Cosmo to think he was doing this out of pity. Even though that was half-true. "Just needed to get away for a bit."

Anti-Cosmo sighed and rolled his eyes. "I hear that. Let's just say that yesterday was an emotional train wreck for me. I'm pretty sure I need this even more than you do."

And, how. HP knew better than to press for details. (He was just going to ignore the mental image of the little boy with the Clark Kent glasses, who had a death grip on the pixie's wrist and was begging him to keep quiet on the matter.) Instead, he just swung his golf club, apparently hitting the ball hard enough that he couldn't even see how far it went. Just when he was beginning to feel smug, he heard Anti-Cosmo snort next to him. HP glanced curiously at him then looked down.

The ball was still on the mat. He'd missed it completely.

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?" Anti-Cosmo giggled. HP rolled his eyes at the comment.

Suddenly, there was a feminine, "Well, well, well. Look what the black cat dragged in."

HP turned around and saw a human girl - a rather unattractive one, at that - walking up to them and carrying what appeared to be a solid gold golf club. (HP could practically smell the new money on this kid.) She wore a pale pink polo shirt and lavender shorts, both of which appeared to be high-quality material. That or just really good knock-offs. Her high blond ponytail, secured by the sparkliest scrunchy that HP had ever seen, bobbed from side to side as she approached.

Her braces glinted in the sunlight as she grinned mischievously at a _very_ annoyed Anti-Cosmo, and her lisp only made her more irritating. "If it isn't my British bad boy. Who's your hot friend?" HP raised an eyebrow then jerked back when the girl shoved her face dangerously close to his own, sprinkling his face with saliva when she talked. "He's a bit doughy in the mid-section but still pretty good lookin'. _Rrrr_."

...Did she seriously just attempt one of those weird 'seductive' growls? Backing up and wiping the spittle from his face, HP asked, "AC, who's your creepy friend, and why is she all up in my grill?"

"Amanda's not my creepy friend," Anti-Cosmo snapped. "She's just creepy. And, she spits. A lot!"

Amanda rolled her brown eyes and put her free hand on her hip. "Well, _excuse_ me for requiring corrective dental services." She smiled faux-innocently. "So, Anti-Cosmo, did you miss me? I bet you missed me. I'm a missable person."

Anti-Cosmo sneered at her. "Amanda, why are you here?"

"My anger management coach suggested I soothe my inner rage by taking up a hobby. I tried knitting, but I got frustrated and threw my knitting needles at my anger management coach. He'll be fine once the knitting needles are surgically removed from his shoulder. So, now I'm giving golf a try. It actually is pretty relaxing."

"I know, right?" HP commented, both disturbed by and curious about this girl.

"Oh, _please_ don't start bonding," Anti-Cosmo deadpanned.

Amanda looked from one man to the other. "Hey, you boys mind if I invite myself to join you in a friendly game? 'Cause I'm totally joining you no matter what your answer is."

HP raised an eyebrow, and Anti-Cosmo asked her crossly, "And, why, pray tell, would you want to play with us? If I recall correctly, you aren't exactly the biggest fan of 'creatures.'"

Amanda shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe it's because I enjoy competition." She in close to the poor, flustered AC. "Or, maybe it's because of your fangs and accent. _Purr_."

"Okay, gross," Anti-Cosmo snarked. "You're not playing _anything_ with us, young lady." He then muttered, "If I can even call you a lady."

Yeah, HP agreed that this child was...strange, to say the least. But, could she really be that bad? She was _human_ preteen. As irritating as those things were, this one couldn't possibly be as bad as Anti-Cosmo seemed to think. Also, it was kind of amusing, seeing Mr. Prim-and-Proper-Englishman get so worked up over a little girl with a lisp that could water a small garden.

"What's the harm?" HP asked him. "She's a kid who likes golf. Yeah, she's kind of annoying, but why not?"

Anti-Cosmo gave him a skeptical look. "Trust me, HP. You don't want to spend more time with this weirdo than you have to."

"Uh, I'm right here," Amanda said indignantly.

"Ignore him," HP told her. "Amanda, was it? You can play with us." Anti-Cosmo face-palmed, and the Head Pixie chose not to acknowledge it.

Amanda smiled. "Really? _Promise_ the three of us can play a full game of golf together? At least until I lose interest?"

Suddenly, HP hesitated. 'Promise' was a tricky word with pixies. And, something about the way this girl used that word set him on edge. Then again, she was a preteen human who didn't seem to have Fairy GodParents. What could possibly go wrong? "Uh, yeah. Promise."

Amanda grinned in a way that showed off her braces, Anti-Cosmo muttered, "Oh, crap," and HP wondered how long it would take her to lose interest.

* * *

Really, she wasn't that bad. HP and Amanda had a pleasant conversation about investment. Apparently, her father was quite the self-proclaimed expert. Plus, it was fun to watch Anti-Cosmo search for every possible reason to stay at least three feet away from her at all times. Of course, her being an overly hormonal eleven-year-old, that was pretty difficult. And, pretty entertaining to watch. But, the Head Pixie would deny recording the girl squeezing Anti-Cosmo's butt and Anti-Cosmo angrily smacking her hand away. HP would also deny sending the video to Sanderson, who replied with an 'If you think that's good, check this out,' and a photo of Sanderson's little sister, Taylor, who had somehow managed to fall into a pond. She was soaked, her pencil-straight brown hair stuck all over her face and her shirt tight against her breasts (not that he was looking). She did _not_ look amused about her brother taking such a humiliating picture of her. HP suppressed a grin and texted back an, 'Lol.'

"Oh, Mr. Head Pixie," Amanda sang, making him look up from his phone. She had her golf ball placed on the start of the sixth hole and had the head of her club positioned near the ball. "You seem like a smart, savvy kind of man. Could you help me with my form?"

HP put his phone in his pocket. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me. And, you seemed fine before."

"Ah, come on. Help a blossoming ingenue out."

"It's probably a trap," Anti-Cosmo warned from the tree he was leaning against.

HP looked from him to Amanda then shrugged. "Whatever." She would probably keep bugging him, if he didn't say yes. He flew over to her and landed directly behind her. "Okay. Firmly grasp it in your hands." He took her hands and moved them to the proper places on the club. Did she just giggle? Maybe he'd imagined it. "Bend over slightly." He grabbed her hips and pulled them closer to him, bending her back just enough.

The giddy, "Ooh!" she let out made him realize that he had not imagined her earlier laughter.

Pushing back his discomfort, he continued his teachings. "Lastly, spread your legs a bit further apart." He leaned over and pushed her bare thighs apart.

She shivered a little and panted, "A rich CEO spreading my legs apart. _I like it_."

Realization slowly crawled into HP's mind and colored his cheeks. Said coloring only got darker when Anti-Cosmo started laughing hysterically.

"Oh, merciful Goddess," Anti-Cosmo giggled. "It-It was worth putting up with Amanda just to see _that_."

HP threw a golf ball at him.

"You know something?" Amanda said. "For a couple of weirdo creatures, you guys are pretty cool. I can't decide who I like more." She leaned uncomfortable close to HP. "Do I go with the rich CEO who has soft but firm hands?" HP barely stopped himself from shuddering. Amanda skipped over to Anti-Cosmo and invaded his personal space. "Or, the guy with fangs, piercing green eyes, and that British accent."

"Yeah, I've had enough of this." Anti-Cosmo raised his wand...which drooped when he tried to use it. "Oh, bat dung."

Amanda's smile darkened. "Ha! Nice try, Tall, Dark, and British. But, _I_ got a pixie to make me a promise. And, once a pixie promises something, no force in the universe can break it. Not even magic!"

"How could you possibly know about that?" HP demanded, mentally kicking himself.

"My pal, Ms. Doombringer, wrote a book all about creatures called, _Magic for Morons_. I found it in a clearance bin, which was coincidentally located in Clarence Bin's Discount Book Store. You boys are stuck with me, until the game ends. And, I don't think I'm gonna be losing interest any time soon."

Anti-Cosmo bonked HP on the head with his wand. "You _had_ to promise her, didn't you?"

In hindsight, perhaps HP deserved to be hit in the head. "How was I supposed to know she was this creepy?"

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Amanda said, "I'm gonna go gargle. I have a rare syndrome called chronic onion gums. It's as bad as it sounds."

This was worse than HP had thought. As she walked away, he commented, "That explains why I've been smelling onions all day."

"Oh, I'm the Head Pixie," Anti-Cosmo mocked in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like HP. "Of course, you can play golf with us, you annoying little pest." Out of nowhere, something bounced off his head. A golf ball landed at his feet. "Why do I keep getting hit in the head, today?" he whined in his normal voice.

A familiar feminine voice answered their confusion with a deadpan, "Sorry, guys." They turned around and saw Sanderson and Taylor, the latter still damp, flying over to them. "My brother's a terrible shot."

Sanderson raised an eyebrow at her. "At least I'm not the clutz who fell into a water trap."

"Because, you pushed me."

"Because, as your big brother, it is my sworn duty to mess with you."

Anti-Cosmo picked up the golf ball and handed it back to Taylor. "Yeah, can we skip the brother-sister banter? I'm not exactly in the best mood for it."

Taylor hummed with interest. "Who peed in your coffee?"

Anti-Cosmo ratted HP out, much HP's annoyance. "Mr. Nice Guy over here promised a future rapist that she could hang out with us until she lost interest. And, short of us being gay, I don't think she's going to lose interest in us any time soon."

Sanderson blinked, his shades absent, since he was off-duty. "Did you say 'future rapist?'"

"Let's just say, she's really grabby," HP said. He caught the grin beginning to spread on Anti-Cosmo's face. "I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Nope," Anti-Cosmo replied.

Before Taylor or Sanderson could ask what exactly their boss wouldn't live down, they heard Amanda bellowing out some pop song about shiny teeth. And, the horrendous singing was getting closer.

"Oh, rubbish," Anti-Cosmo sighed. "She's back."

"Well, we may as just grit our teeth and bare it," HP said, deciding it best to accept their fate. At least the kid wasn't dangerous. "Like you said, nothing short of us being gay will-" Sanderson threw his golf club to the ground and grabbed HP by the shoulders, his pale blue eyes narrowed in resolve. "Uh, what are you-"

Then, Sanderson kissed him.

On the mouth.

HP reacted instinctively, as though his body was on autopilot. He dropped his club. He felt himself kiss back. His heart rate skyrocketed. Warmth spread over him. And, suddenly, he knew what people meant when they talked about 'butterflies in your stomach.' After a moment, Sanderson pulled back, red-faced and just barely smiling.

Then, he slapped his hands over his mouth and turned white as a spreadsheet, looking positively mortified. For reasons he didn't understand at the time, HP felt a little hurt. Was kissing him really that bad? Then, the logical side of him remembered that he was the Head Pixie and that Sanderson was his vice president.

Yeah, HP would have panicked, too.

"Well, this is awkward," said a rather stunned Amanda. She smiled sheepishly. "Uh, sorry, HP. I-I wouldn't have been hitting on you so hard if I knew you were, uh… N-Not that there's anything wrong with that. I have no problems with those who like their own gender." She turned back to Anti-Cosmo. "So, looks like you get me all to yourself, eh, handsome?"

Anti-Cosmo groaned. "I will not hesitate to sic my wife on you."

Amanda blinked. "You're married?"

"I thought you knew that."

"Okay, I've suddenly lost interest in both of you. I-I think I'll just continue on without you guys, if it's all the same."

As she made her awkward escape, Taylor flew after her. "Mind if I join you? I think the lovebirds need a minute."

"Yeah," Anti-Cosmo drawled, looking at anything that wasn't a male pixie. "I just remembered I have to...fix...the toaster… Yes, that sounds like a plausible excuse to leave." He poofed his sorry butt out of there, leaving the two dumbstruck pixies alone.

Neither of them knew quite what to say to the other, but HP cleared his throat despite the fact that the only thing he could think to say was an uncomfortable, "Um, Sanderson…" just to break the silence.

Still unnaturally pale, Sanderson blurted, "I-I-I'm so sorry, sir! I thought if she thought that- So, I- Not that I like- I mean, not that I don't like- I mean-"

"Sanderson," HP interrupted. "Sandy, just-just relax, okay? I'm not mad at you."

Sanderson looked ready to collapse in relief as color returned to his face. "You're not?"

"No. I'm not. Confused and a little uncomfortable, but not mad. You were trying to help. It was weird, but it worked. So, I'll allow it. After all, it's not like really meant anything, right?"

"...Right."

HP wasn't sure why the answer and the pause right before it started nagging him. Or, why Sanderson's mostly hidden disappointment bothered him. Swallowing a sigh, HP requested, "Now that that's over with, would you mind giving me some space? I need to process everything that just happened."

Sanderson nodded. "Yes. Of course, sir." He bit his lip. "S-See you at work tomorrow…?"

HP smiled reassuringly. "Yes, Sandy. I'll see you then."

With a relieved sigh, Sanderson flew off, probably to look for his sister, and the Head Pixie pinged back to his house with some very mixed-up thoughts and a sudden craving for the sugariest comfort food he could find.

* * *

"So, what you're saying is that those two are _not_ actually gay?" Amanda asked.

Taylor sat her ball on the mat and observed the sandtraps and false holes up ahead. "Well, my brother is. HP, I'm not really sure about. But, they're not together. HP just wanted you off his case, so Sanderson tried a little too hard to help."

Amanda scowled. "Hm. I don't know whether to be angry that I was tricked or aroused at seeing two hot guys kissing."

"I'm not touching that one." Taylor smacked the ball with her club and sent it flying through the air, rolling down a hill, bouncing off two rocks, and falling into the hole. "Oh yeah. I am good." She turned to Amanda. "Since we're on the topic, here's a fun fact about pixies: approximately eighty percent of the pixie population is gay or bi."

Amanda started at that. "Really? Again, nothing wrong with that. I just wasn't expecting such a percentage."

Taylor shrugged. "Yeah. See, only about ten percent of our kind are female. To put it in business terms, girls are high in demand but low in supply. Hence why there are so many males chasing after other males."

Pursing her lips in thought, Amanda nodded. "I guess that makes sense." Taylor stepped aside, allowing Amanda to ready her own ball. "Suddenly, I can't help being jealous of you, Tay. Can I call you 'Tay?' I'm calling you 'Tay.'"

"Please, don't."

"Whatever. As I was saying, if girl pixies are as rare as you say, then you've probably got all the boys wrapped around your little finger."

Taylor rolled her pale blue eyes. "Well, yes, but it was only fun when I was your age. I'm forty-five thousand, six hundred and fourteen years old, now. Still young and full of pie and vinegar," she added upon noticing Amanda's shock. "Or, however that saying goes. My point is that being adored by every non-gay man who saw me was fun for a while, but these days I look for any opportunity to get out of the spotlight, so to speak. You know, have some me-time or girl-time."

Amanda scoffed. "You do you, sister, and I'll do me. Once these braces come off, I'll have boys fighting to the death over me, and I'll love every minute of it."

Just as she was about to swing, Taylor said quietly, "That happens sometimes."

Amanda lowered her golf club. "What happens sometimes?"

Whoops. That slipped out. Taylor didn't want to think about that. Sanderson had assured her that it wasn't her fault, that she didn't force Keller and Robinson to get physical over her, that she didn't tell Keller to- Merciful Goddess, she could still smell the reek of Robinson's blood in the air. Taylor averted her gaze and nervously toyed with her low ponytail. "Nothing."

But, Amanda wouldn't accept that answer. "Come on, Tay. Tell me what happens sometimes."

"Nothing happens. And, stop calling me that."

"Ah, come on. Girl-to-girl. What happens sometimes?"

Taylor's grip tightened on her golf club. "I just told you nothing happens."

"Whoa, trigger alert. Why are you getting mad at me? All I said was that I'd like it if guys fought to the death over me, then you...said…" Her eyes widened in realization, as her mind put two and two together. "Oh, I see. Guys really _have_ fought to the death over you, haven't they?"

Taylor was surprised her club hadn't been split in two by now. "No."

Wickedness sparked in Amanda's gaze. "Oh, I bet they did. Details, please."

"I said _no_."

"How hot were they? Was one a male model and the other one of those guys who's dorky but in a cute way?"

"Stop it."

"How'd the fight start? Was one of them flirting with you at the time, or did you sort of just stumble upon them already at each other's throats?"

" _Stop_."

"Were there weapons involved? I bet there were weapons involved."

" _Shut_. _Up_."

"What did the other in? Was it a gun? A knife? A fatal blow to the noggin-"

"IT WAS A BOX CUTTER!" Taylor screamed, her throat tight at the memory. "It was Keller in the mailroom with a box cutter! Now _shut up_!"

Amanda was stunned-silent, and Taylor used the opportunity to both compose herself and scold herself for getting emotional in front of someone she'd just met. Then, Amanda asked timidly. "At the risk of making things worse for myself… Just to clarify, was Keller the murderer, or was he the one murdered?"

Taylor's thin thread of composure snapped, and she raised her club. Just as she was about to whack this little wench into submission, someone grabbed her club mid-whack and pinged it away. She looked over her shoulder. Her brother had that protect-my-baby-sister-at-all-costs look, and it would have reduced Amanda to a pile of smoof, if looks could kill.

Sanderson stepped protectively in front of his sibling. "You just don't know when you're not wanted, do you?"

Amanda swallowed hard. "Okay. I understand that I overstepped my boundaries, and I'm sssuueeyy. I-I mean, I ap-pogy. Gah! I'm too mean to properly apple juice! I mean say I'm sleepy! I mean-"

She squealed in pain, when Sanderson grabbed her by the scrunchie and snarled through gritted teeth. "Just. _Leave_. Before I get even angrier."

"Yeah, uh, that-that sounds like a good idea." With that, Sanderson let her go, and she ran away, screaming like the frightened little girl she was.

Taylor wanted to remind him that she could take care of herself, but she didn't trust her own voice at the moment. Instead, she struggled to compose herself, a feat that was made even more difficult, when her big brother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and sighed. "Stop beating yourself up, sis. None of that was your fault. It never is."

She wished people would stop saying that. Or, at least that it would stop bothering her so much. Female pixies were so hard to come by that the males would sometimes get...violent. It was just the way things were in Pixie World. Nothing was as boring as the stereotypes said. But, Taylor had been right there, when it happened, three days ago. It wasn't the first time men have killed over her, but it scared the living crap out of her every time. That's what this little golf excursion had been about. Sanderson had been trying to take her mind off it.

So much for that.

Sanderson smiled sadly and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Wanna just go home? I think _Frozen_ 's supposed to be on soon. Brownies or ice cream?"

Taylor blinked back tears and smiled. She had the best brother. "Brownies _with_ ice cream?"

Sanderson responded by kissing her forehead and pinging them back home.

 **The End**

* * *

 **I don't know anymore. This was supposed to end with humorous comments about how Sanderson and Taylor love Disney movies and HP writes fanfiction (but you didn't hear that from me). Instead we have this.**

 **Oh, well. Review!**


	30. Room 999 (Part One)

**Summary: When magical creatures start dying under mysterious circumstances, it's a race against the clock to find out who's responsible.**

 **You see, it's chapters like these that are the reason I should not be allowed to watch _Lucifer_. Great show, by the way. But, yeah, things get a little crazy, and I beg you not to attack me with pitchforks and torches after you read this.**

 **It's a pixie-centric chapter, and I did that for two reasons. One: I have lots of headcanons for pixies, and I'd like to actually get to those. And, two: I'm kind of entertaining thoughts of doing a side-series of pixie one-shots. They'd coincide with this series, but they wouldn't have a story arc or anything. At least, none that I've thought up. But, yeah, I wanna practice writing pixies.**

 **Also, feel free to flip the number "999" upside-down. See what happens. :)**

 **Episode Required Before Reading: Par for the Course**

* * *

 **Room 999 (Part One)**

 _The deafening sounds of thunder crashed against my eardrums. Rain pelted the windows like the pitter-patter of feet in a dogsled race. As I sat solemnly at my desk, I began to feel as if something was amiss in the universe. As though something dearly important was about to be yanked out of my heart then chained and shackled to the darkest plains of my mindscape._

 _There was a knock at the door of my private study. Timid yet firm, as if the knocker knew what they wanted but were afraid to ask of it._

"Come in," _I called, my voice smooth but grating, like the sound butter being spread upon toast._

 _The door opened, and a lovely young damsel, likely not much older than myself, entered the room and gazed curiously at her surroundings. Her voice was gentle but powerful. A natural-born caretaker, this one._ "Anti-Cosmo, why is the room in black and white?" _Her pale braids bounced on her spine as she approached me._ "And, what's with the detective costume? And, can you stop talking without moving your lips? It's creeping me out and not in a good way."

"Sorry," Anti-Cosmo said. "Anti-Wanda and Foop have been taking some mother-child film classes, and I've been really into hard-boiled detective fiction." He poofed the color back into the room and asked, "Something wrong, Anti-Dove?"

Anti-Dove squeezed her red eyes shut and swallowed hard. "One of the patients is dead."

That...was not what Anti-Cosmo had expected her to say. He flew to her side took her hand in both of his. "I-I'm dreadfully sorry. What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

Anti-Dove took a deep breath and opened her eyes. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. He, uh… The-The police came. S-Someone killed him."

"Say what now?" Killed? Wow, she was full of surprises today and not the good kind.

Anti-Dove rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "You're smart. I figured...maybe you could help find out who did it. I mean… I don't know. The cops aren't really doing much but talking, so I thought-"

"I hate to burst your bubble, Anti-Dove," Anti-Cosmo interrupted, "but crime-solving isn't really my forte. But, I do know of an expert."

* * *

Frankly, Anti-Cosmo didn't know what was more amusing: Taylor literally kicking in the door to room 999 or the shocked looks on the anti-fairy policemen's faces. At least all the patients and doctors had been relocated following the murder. Why did Anti-Cosmo agree to come, again?

One of the policeman, who was wearing a face mask like a doctor for some reason, stopped Taylor as she tried to enter the room. "Miss, you can't come in here." She wordlessly flashed him her badge. The policeman scowled deeper. "I don't care if you're the Goddess, Herself. No unauthorized personnel."

Oh, yeah. That's why here was here. "It's alright, Officer…" Anti-Cosmo looked at the man's nametag. "Anti-Jones. She can help you."

Anti-Jones blinked upon noticing his ruler standing behind Taylor. "Uh, with all due respect, sir, I don't think-"

Taylor grabbed his arm and bent it in a way that Anti-Cosmo couldn't bare to watch. Anti-Jones screamed in agony and collapsed, passing out from the pain. An unpleasant shiver ran down Anti-Cosmo's spine and shot through his stomach. He wasn't usually squeamish, but...the sound of bones snapping and tendons tearing… _Urgh_.

Taylor flew into the room. "Anyone else wanna throw me out?" The other officers wisely denied. Oddly, they were all wearing same face masks. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Anti-Cosmo didn't hear the conversation that followed. His ears were ringing too much. He couldn't see well either; his vision was becoming decorated with black speckles. His head was swimming like a gold medalist, but he did manage to figure out why the officers were wearing face masks before he lost consciousness.

* * *

Taylor watched with minimal interest as the so-called 'police' panicked over their ruler's unconscious state, until his creepy flying cat-friend came by and flew him out of there. Taylor usually didn't mind cats, but...did they really need magic and the ability to speak coherently? She would never understand that stupid Spirit Guide thing with anti-fairies.

While two of the still-conscious boys freaked out over whether or not they would be sentenced to death for...potentially poisoning their ruler? What? Taylor would wonder about that later. She had a job to do, and clearly these yahoos couldn't do it themselves. She surveyed her surroundings. The room looked like what you'd expect from a mental patient's quarters. Except for the dead body on the bed. That probably shouldn't have been there. She flew closer and examined it, the forensic photographer either not noticing her or just ignoring her, as he continued photographing the evidence. The victim was male and in serious need of a haircut (or maybe that just her being a pixie). His red eyes were wide open from what had clearly been an agonizing death. She could tell from the pool of dried blood caked to his exposed stomach.

"Give me the rundown," she requested.

The photographer nearly dropped his camera as he turned his bespectacled gaze on her. (Gray eyes, huh? That was an interesting eye color for an anti-fairy.) "Geez, lady! Don't _do_ that, when I'm focusing."

Well, at least someone here was good at their job. Taylor showed him her badge. "Taylor Davis. Private Investigator."

"Uh, hi." He looked curiously at the frantic idiots behind her. "What's with the…?"

...He seriously didn't see _any_ of what just happened? "Just how focused were you, exactly?" Taylor asked, lowering her shades for emphasis.

The photographer blinked like a confused owl. In fact, his whole face was kind of owl-ish. At least, the parts not covered by his mask were. "Apparently, enough to miss all the fun." He held out his gloved hand. "Anti-Scott Anti-Braden. Forensics specialist." He pulled his hand away. "Whoops. Probably shouldn't shake hands. Don't wanna contaminate the evidence."

Focused, dedicated enough to call himself a 'specialist,' and managed to make owl glasses cute. Taylor liked this one. She pushed her shades back into place with her index finger. "Tell me about the victim."

"Anti-Nicholas Anti-Glitters. His girlfriend sent him here 'cause of his suicidal tendencies."

"I'd be suicidal too, if my name was Glitters." Anti-Scott grinned at that. "Have you checked the security footage?"

"There was a power outage last night. Cameras are still down."

"Hm. We have any way of contacting the girlfriend?"

He shook his head. "No point. Her fairy counterpart was killed by some fairy hunter, so…"

Darn. There went a potential lead. "Right. What about the cause of Anti-Glitters's death? Stab wound, I'm guessing?"

"Try injection. At least, that's what I'm thinking. The wound's too small. Probably a needle. Not even humans die from getting stabbed _one time_ by a needle." Fair point, no pun intended. "Had to have been an injection."

"With what? Have your scientists figured that out, yet?"

He frowned at her, offended. What did she say? He pointed at himself. "Uh, forensics specialist." Taylor fought back an eyeroll. She was starting to think he didn't know what those words meant. "But, any old anti-fairy on the street can tell you what he was injected with."

Taylor crossed her arms. "Well, I'm not an anti-fairy."

"Clearly. So, I'll tell you. It's iron. In its chemical form." Taylor just stared blankly at him. "See, in its solid form, iron is very painful to the touch for our kind. Its chemical form has a distinct odor that can lead to faint spells in anti-fairies, and prolonged exposure can be pretty dangerous. Hence the masks." And, hence why Anti-Cosmo had passed out so quickly. Although, Taylor couldn't smell anything nearly that bad. Then again, it sounded like anti-fairies were ultra-sensitive to the stuff. "Injected into the bloodstream…" He nodded toward the body. "That."

Taylor nodded. "So, I see. Do we know anything else about Anti-Glitters? Living relatives? Former business deals? Anything we could connect the dots with?"

"I've already contacted the family and his old co-workers. They were pretty upset, but they didn't give me anything we can use."

Taylor glanced back at the other cops. One of them said that they were taking their broken friend, who was still out cold and Taylor was only a little sorry, to the hospital. Then, they...just kind of left. Wow, really? The Head Pixie would have cut both their pay and their break time in half for such negligence. "Not very useful, are they?"

Anti-Scott glanced over at where his co-workers had been. "Them? They help. They just know that I've got this covered."

Mr. Forensics Specialist was a good liar, she'd give him that, but not good enough to fly past her radar. "I could help you. That's why I'm here. You need anything, you just ask."

Anti-Scott stared at her in shock then blinked a few times. He ran a hand threw his already scruffy dark blue hair. "Um… O-Okay. Well… Do-Do you know anything about chemistry? You're a pixie, so you could probably analyze the toxin without passing out from inhaling the fumes."

Yeah… There was a reason she'd gotten a 'C' in chemistry… "Don't you have any spark patches?" Spark patches were little square stickers, named for the tiny shock that you got when they made contact with your skin, that you could stick to your chest to prevent inhaled toxins from affecting you. Hands down, the best thing since lasagna. Though, to be fair, there wasn't a pixie in the known universe who could resist a steaming plate of lasagna. The stuff was like heroin, and pixies were total addicts.

"Well, yeah, I have some, but the only other option right now would be to dig deeper into Anti-Glitters's past. But, unless we can find a computer with, like, _a lot_ of information-"

"I can do that."

Anti-Scott blinked twice. "I beg your pardon?"

Taylor shrugged. "You're the obviously the science guy here. I'm a pretty good hacker, and I know where to find what is arguably the most advanced computer in the magical realms. You do the science; I'll do the digging."

Anti-Scott just stared at her with his huge owl eyes. After a moment, he blurted, "Do you have a boyfriend?" Taylor slapped him in the face, knocking off his owl glasses in the process. Face purple with embarrassment and possibly a hand print, he bent down to pick up his glasses and muttered, "One of these days, I'm gonna ask that question and _not_ get slapped in the face."

* * *

 _Cassiopeia Moon Starlight was reported dead on September 29, 2017, in the Earth town of Dimmsdale, California. Starlight's Fairy GodChild, Rebecca Alice DuBois, as well as all human witnesses, quickly had their memories erased of the existence of fairies, and Rebecca will soon be assigned a new Fairy GodParent._

 _Fairy witnesses report that Starlight had been disguised as a human child and was playing with Rebecca in the park, when Starlight suddenly doubled over in pain. She then began to bleed profusely from her calf, dying shortly after._

Taylor stared blankly at the news article on the computer screen. One fairy and one anti-fairy. Two days apart from each other. Same cause of death, different injection points. If there wasn't a connection, she'd eat her pointed hat. If nothing else, both victims had stupid names.

The office door opened, and HP did a double-take. They stared at each other for a moment, then HP deadpanned, "Are you going to leave anytime soon?"

Taylor pushed herself off the chair, flipped her legs over the desk, and sat down on it. "Does it snow in Hades?"

HP scowled deeper. "Get off my desk. Then, get out of my office."

"I don't know. Your computer's the best in the universe, and I'm quite comfortable." The Head Pixie wasn't amused as he flew up to her. "Look, I've got a case to work on, so-"

HP slapped a hand down on either side of her, which would have been fun, if she was being straddled by someone else. Preferably, someone less...him-ish. "Why do you always do this?"

Taylor couldn't help a smirk. "Because, your internet history makes great blackmail."

"There you go again. Being disrespectful. I'm the Head Pixie."

"Yeah, and I'm your vice president's baby sister, but you don't see me working it into every conversation like the egomaniac that you are."

"At least I'm not an arrogant little-"

The door chose that moment to open. HP looked over his shoulder, and Taylor tilted to see behind his over-sized forehead. Sanderson - aka, her _big brother_ \- was floating there, a few papers stacked neatly in his hands. He lifted his shades briefly, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and incredulity. Both Taylor and HP's faces darkened, as they realized how their current position must have looked. Sanderson floated robotically up to the desk, dropped his papers as far from his sister's rear-end as possible, and took another moment to just...kind of stare at his boss and sibling, who couldn't seem to move from their _very_ awkward position.

Sanderson raised a mildly shaky hand and pointed at the papers. "Paperwork," he said before quickly flying the heck out of there.

Once the door had been slammed shut, HP finally managed to pry himself off the desk. "You know, things like that wouldn't happen, if you'd stop breaking into my office."

Honestly, this man… Taylor crossed her arms and rolled her eyes behind her shades. "Oh, please. You're the one who was all up in my grill." HP was about to retort, but Ariana Grande started singing about needing to be 'loved harder,' and Taylor pulled her phone out. It was Anti-Scott, probably with more information on the case at hand.

HP put his hands on his hips and fixed her with a condescending glare. "Nice ringtone," he mocked. "Very professional. And, so is that hand gesture."

"You're just jealous, 'cause you have poor taste in music. Oh, you can make that gesture, but I can't?"

"Get off my desk," HP demanded. He pulled out his phone to ping her away, only for her to kick it out of his hands. He then proceeded to mime strangling her.

Just to annoy him even more, Taylor lay down on his desk and answered her phone. "Anything?"

" _Everything,_ " Anti-Scott responded, sounding both giddy and terrified in that way that only Certifiable Super Nerds could. " _So, I analyzed Anti-Glitters's blood sample and-_ "

Someone screamed. The sounds of un-pixie-like chaos flowed into the room. Taylor shot up off the desk. "I'll call you back." She hung up, and she and HP flew out of the office to see what the commotion was about.

A swarm of pixies crowded the hallway but luckily they made a path for HP and Taylor was able to follow that path. They didn't know what was going on, but there was a lot of poorly hidden shock and fear. That was never a good sign, considering that whole 'don't get emotional in public' thing with their race. A few doctors had also pinged into the midst of the chaos. That was an even worse sign.

HP stopped so suddenly that Taylor almost slammed into him. Hearing the Head Fricking Pixie, of all people, gasp so obviously was what really set Taylor on edge. She shoved him aside to see what was so bad-

Surrounded by frantic doctors was a pixie. He was lying in a sideways fetal position on the floor, sunglasses lying nearby. His square face was contorted in agony. Crimson waves stained the sleeve of his gray blazer and pooled out from under the fabric. His moist pale blue eyes caught HP and Taylor's equally frightened gazes, and he squeezed his eyes shut, a few pained tears slipping from his lashes.

As the doctors pinged him to the hospital, and the other pixies exchanged horrified words, HP and Taylor exchanged horrified looks and thought the exact same thing:

Oh, smoof, _no_ …

 **To Be Continued...**

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 **Don't panic! This is only part one! I probably could have crammed it all into one, but I didn't for some reason. Review, and again, please don't come after me with pitchforks and torches.**


	31. Room 999 (Part Two)

**Summary: When magical creatures start dying under mysterious circumstances, it's a race against the clock to find out who's responsible.**

 **Theoretically, I could have just made this a two-shot. But, it was getting long, and I'm trying to keep my chapter lengths as consistent as possible, so you're getting three parts. I blame Dinkleburg.**

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 **Room 999 (Part Two)**

Naturally, no work was going to get done after a display like that, so HP had sent everyone home early. A lot of them probably went to the hospital to see how Sanderson was doing. HP tried to do the same, but there were two problems.

One: the hospitals all had locks on magic so that people couldn't just ping in and out whenever they pleased, and only licensed medical personnel were unaffected by it.

And, two: there was a bit of a crowd. Sanderson was well-liked, and it wasn't every day that the company VP (not to mention, someone so close to the Head Pixie) would randomly collapse and start bleeding profusely with absolutely no warning whatsoever.

Oh, wait. There was a third problem. The press were there. Fortunately, there was a guard standing outside the door to room 999, where Sanderson was staying. So, at least the poor guy wasn't getting bombarded. HP wished he could say the same thing about himself. Reporters swarmed him, shoved microphones in his face, nearly blinded him with camera flashes, and asked all kinds of questions he wasn't in the mood to answer. There were only three reporters, but the way they surrounded him like angry wasps, it felt like there were a hundred.

"Head Pixie, any word as to how this could have happened?"

"What are your thoughts on the current state of Sanderson Davis?"

"Is it true that you and Davis have been dating in secret for years?"

"Everyone, stop," HP demanded, keeping as little emotion in his voice as possible. "I'm here to visit the company vice president. Not to have my pretty face plastered all over the news. But, just to satiate you for the time being: I don't know how this happened, I'm worried about him, and we are not, nor were we ever, a couple. Now, leave me be, and I'll _consider_ answering whatever I can after I see Sanderson. Capeesh?"

HP didn't have to shove too hard through the crowd. Other pixies tended to make a path for him. One of the perks of being their Head, he supposed. The guard wordlessly let him in then slammed the door on the three reporters and the other pixies who tried to sneak in. Ah, yes. Reporters. One of the cons of being the Head Pixie.

His train of thought came to a screeching halt, and his body froze along with it.

Sanderson was lying on the bed, head tilted towards HP, forearm tightly bandaged with a visible dark red splotch underneath the wrapping, dressed in nothing but one of those light gray hospital gowns. An IV needle was sticking out of his arm, supplying him with liquid magic. He looked...peaceful, like he was asleep. Maybe he was. The doctors had probably given him some form of painkiller. HP forced his wings to carry him closer just to verify that Sanderson was still breathing. He was. His gentle breaths and the steady beeping of the heart monitor were the only sounds in the room.

HP put his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. It wasn't right. Sanderson was a ball of love and energy. The guy who shamelessly danced and rapped on Fairy Idol and called elephants stepping on stuff a 'plan' shouldn't have been the same guy who was currently trapped by medical restraints.

Something knocked on the window, interrupting the Head Pixie's musings. He glanced over and- What in the world was she doing? Taylor crossed her arms, like she expected him to just let her. Yeah, not happening. On the other hand, for reasons HP would never understand...Sanderson would want his baby sister by his bedside. With a sigh, HP flew up to the window and opened it.

"I hope I'm in the right room, this time," Taylor said. "I freaked out a couple of patients." Then, she spotted her brother and was immediately at his side. " _Argh_! Dang it, big brother!" she snapped, not even bothering to hide her fear. "What is the connection? Who did this to you? And, how high is their pain tolerance? I'll find out and exceed it for what they did to you!"

Something she said peaked HP's interest. "Taylor, what do you mean by, 'What's the connection?'"

She didn't say anything for a moment. Then, she sighed shakily and furiously wiped her eyes before whipping around to face him. She readjusted her sunglasses almost fast enough for him to miss the redness of her sclerae. "Guess you'll find out anyway. It involves that case I mentioned."

She explained how two other magical creatures had come down with the same ailments and how she and an anti-fairy named Anti-Scott had been looking into who could have done such a thing. HP knew he would regret asking, but he couldn't help it. "So… The others. Did they, you know, survive?"

Taylor didn't respond, but somehow her silence alone was enough to turn his stomach inside-out. Then, she brightened out of nowhere with an inappropriate, "Oh! Oh, freaking crap!" She yanked her phone out of her pocket. "How in the Sisters' names did I forget?" She brought her phone up to her ear. "Hey, you said you had something, right? … Yeah, yeah, I got distracted. … Just tell me what you have! … What do you mean, 'What happened to your monotone?' I'll take my monotone and shove it up your rear-end, if you don't tell me what you found out!"

HP couldn't help shaking his head. Sanderson was more open with emotions than most pixies, but at least he limited himself to smiling and occasionally scowling. His sister? She didn't seem to give half a darn about social norms. She didn't typically get emotional in front of people, but when she felt something, she didn't seem to care who saw it. Sure, the two had been raised rather...unconventionally, but how was it that one sibling could be so much better with societal expectations than the other?

Taylor frowned deeply. "I'm on my way." She hung up and, finally back to being monotone, addressed the Head Pixie. "That was Anti-Scott. He's got something, and it doesn't sound good. I gotta jet." She flew back to her still unconscious brother, kissed his temple, and told him, "I love you, bro, and I'm gonna make this right," before floating back out the window.

Left alone with his unconscious old friend, HP grabbed a nearby chair, pushed it over to Sanderson's bedside, and sat down. Just watching him sleep. Watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Just to be sure he was still alive. Sanderson's head was facing away from him now, so all HP could see was a head of short black hair. It was tempting to reach out and turn Sanderson's face toward him. But, HP resisted, not willing to risk disturbing his moment of peace.

Suddenly, the reality of what Taylor said slammed him in the face. Two other victims. Same symptoms. Both of them dead. Sanderson...had lost so much blood…

HP bunched up the fabric of his pants in his fists and nearly choked on the lump in his throat. No. He couldn't think that way. Taylor was a pain in the wings, but she knew what she was doing. He wouldn't deny that she was good at her job. If she found out who did this, maybe she would find an antidote. Maybe Sanderson would make it.

...It was almost funny. HP wouldn't call himself a pessimist, but Sanderson was always the optimistic one. Mr. Rose-Colored-Glasses. That's what HP used to call him. Back when he was Vice President Ross Grey and Sanderson was just starting out in the complaints department. Now, who wore those glasses? It was a role reversal that no one asked for, but HP would wear the glasses. Just this once. He had to. Sanderson was in no condition to do it.

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When he eventually left the hospital - visiting hours were over, and only the patients' families and spouses were allowed to stay longer, so the reporters had been forced to leave as well, thank the Goddess - HP flew out of the building with every intention of going home and throwing himself under the covers. What he was _not_ in the mood for, was Taylor pouncing on him, grabbing him by the shoulders, and practically screaming that she needed to see his security footage. After prying her dark red nails off of him - the woman had a grip that could give Jorgen Von Strangle a run for his money - he finally managed to ask her what in Grayscale's name was going on.

The first thing she said after that was, "I know how to save Sanderson, but I need to see those security tapes to do it."

HP didn't know if that was true, but he was willing to try anything. He pinged them up to his office in Pixies Inc. Headquarters and accessed the security footage, while she explained what Anti-Scott had found.

Upon analyzing the blood sample of the first victim, Anti-Scott had discovered traces of every known metal/chemical-weakness of magical creatures, from anti-fairies to pixies to beasts to whatever others were harmed by certain metals or chemicals. HP misspelled his password upon hearing that. He didn't notice the little red text that said, 'Incorrect Password.' He was too busy feeling the weight of this new information sink into the pit of his stomach. Every weakness of every magical creature? But, how? And, who? And, why? Was there some kind of connection among the victims? Serial killers don't just pick their victims at random, do they? Had Sanderson gotten in the midst of something? Or, was this just cruel, terrible luck?

HP shook his head clear and retyped his password. He couldn't wasted time thinking about the how's and who's and why's. Especially not when Sanderson, of all the pixies in Pixie World, was - dear Goddess, did he dare even think it? - slowly dying.

Taylor kept feeding him information, as the Head Pixie searched for the correct footage. The good news, the news that made HP want to find this Anti-Scott and pay him handsomely, was that Anti-Scott said that he should be able to whip up an antidote. He must have been pretty good with chemistry, if he was as confident as Taylor described. The bad news? He would need a sample of the poison itself. One that wasn't tainted by blood. That was why they needed the security tapes. If they found the killer, they would find the sample.

"How do you know the culprit was here?" HP asked, pulling up that day's security footage.

Taylor simply shrugged. "Good place to start."

Couldn't argue there. HP started with the footage from the complaints department. Sanderson would sometimes fill in for Johnson whenever the latter was on break or out sick. Sure enough, there was Sanderson at Johnson's desk, singing some tune about loving the way someone lied or whatever. HP fast forwarded too much and passed by the new figure that appeared. He rewound and turned up the volume, and he and Taylor watched closely.

Sanderson picked up a small stack of papers and calmly headed for the door, when a woman squeezed in through the open window. He whipped around and dropped the papers in shock. "Uh… Can I help you?"

A human. The woman was a _human_. How was that possible? The human approached Sanderson calmly, and he flew up to her eye level. "Why, you certainly can." She stepped around him, blocking the door, despite possibly knowing that Sanderson could just as easily ping out of the room. "I'm looking for a fellow named Ross Grey." HP's insides seized.

"The Head Pixie?" Sanderson said, his monotone sounding more forced than usual. "Do you have an appointment, ma'am? Either way, I-I'm going to have to confiscate that syringe."

Oh, freaking _smoof_. HP and Taylor couldn't see the syringe from the camera's angle, but…

The human examined what was probably the murder weapon. "Oh, this? This is exactly what I want to show him. I think it's something that'll benefit everyone."

"Ma'am, I think you should leave." Sanderson felt around his pockets.

The human held up they could only assume was a pixie cellphone. "Looking for something?"

Sanderson backed away. "H-How did you…?"

"Not important." She dropped the phone. It was hard to see, but it was probable that she'd crushed it with her foot. "Just tell me where the Head Pixie is."

"I'd rather commit massive tax fraud." Sanderson started gathering the papers from the floor. "Now, I suggest you leave, before I call security."

The woman grabbed his ear and yanked him back to eye level. "Fine. I planned for this. You won't bring him to me? I'll just make him come to me."

It wasn't quite clear what she did with her other hand, but considering that hand had the syringe in it…

Sanderson staggered back and clutched his forearm. The woman raced back out the window. Sanderson called after her, "Wait until the Head Pixie hears of this! He'll sue you so hard, Pixies Inc. will _own_ you!" He quickly grabbed the remaining papers and said to the now-empty room, "I gotta find the boss," before flying off-camera.

HP hadn't realized he'd been gripping his desk until he noticed how white his knuckles had become. His voice came out with a barely perceptible waiver. "Why didn't he tell me about this? Wait." He checked one of the hall cameras and saw Sanderson making his way to HP's office, almost knocking over McKnight in the process. HP switched to his office camera. Yep. Just as he'd suspected. The one thing that would make Sanderson completely forget about being stabbed by a human who'd threatened his boss…

...was seeing his boss straddling his baby sister. Out of context, mind you, but yeah. That's what he saw.

Taylor smacked her forehead. "It's your own fault for straddling me."

HP raised an eyebrow at her. "Are we really going to argue about this now?"

"Right. Sorry." She shoved him out of the way so hard that his glasses nearly fell off his face. "I'm gonna enlarge this chick's face and send it to Anti-Scott. Maybe he can do his nerd thing and find out who she is."

"You're gonna need my password," HP said, readjusting his glasses.

"It's lovemachine37."

"How did you-" HP didn't finish that justified question. He looked carefully at the human's enlarged profile. "...She looks familiar."

 **To Be Continued...**

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 **Don't worry. HP will change his password once all this craziness blows over. In the meantime, review!**


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